Sins of the Father
by Mira Spiegel
Summary: Finished! An apparent suicide calls into action the Medical Examiner's assisstant who is the ME Office's resident genuis. Will Goren and Eames be able to figure out the murder with her help? GorenOC
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Law and Order, or Law and Order: CI. I'm just borrowing the characters for a little fun.

Feedback is greatly appreciated. I try very very hard not to make my original characters "Mary Sueish" but forgive me if at times they seem that way. Also, Goren is really tough to write! Anyway, even though my writing is imperfect, I hope you enjoy the story anyway. Thanks so much!

Sins of the Father

Chapter One: The War on Crime

Every story has two sides and it's Grace's duty to tell the dead person's. Sometimes the story was found quickly and told a clear story. Other times, like now, it was finding all the pieces of the story and fitting them together. And the sooner she found out Sophie Kapirelli's story the better off she would be.

"Ah good, you're still here, Grace."

Grace looked up to see Dr. Elizabeth Rodgers walk into Trace Evidence with two police detectives that she had seen briefly before. She remembered them solely by the contrast: he was a tall, football-player type while she was shorter and frailer looking. They were a real life Mutt and Jeff. Grace didn't even know their names but Dr. Rodgers had told her that these two detectives were the NYPD's "big guns."

"Grace," Dr. Rodgers motioned to the two visitors, "This is Detective Goren and Detective Eames. Green and Fontana had this case handed off to the Major Case Squad based on your findings. Detectives, this is our resident genius, Dr. Grace Harris."

"I don't know about the genius," Grace extended her hand to the woman first and then the man, "but call me Grace."

Dr. Rodgers excused herself and headed out of Trace. Grace opened her mouth to start explaining what she had found when Goren's actions stopped her. He had pulled a latex glove on his hand and was putting two fingers down the corpse's throat. Without thinking about what she was doing, Grace used her clipboard and tapped Goren's wrist. The large man jumped slightly and gave her a wide-eyed look.

"Don't touch my body," Grace stated. Eames coughed slightly, using her hand to cover her smile. Goren blinked a couple times before taking a step back from the body.

"Sorry," he motioned with his gloved hand, "You were going to tell us what you found then."

Grace felt the heat rise to her face from embarrassment. There was no reason why he couldn't look at the body himself. In fact, he probably was supposed to examine it for himself. At least he took her reprimand well although she should probably apologize later to him. Opening her folder, she handed a copy of her report to Eames.

"Sophie Kapirelli was found around seven p.m. last night by her husband, Marco Kapirelli. He claims he found her in the bathtub with her wrists slit."

A movement caught Grace's eye and she looked up to see Goren had stepped up to the body again to look at the woman's wrists. He saw that Grace had seen him and humbly retreated back. An apology was definitely in order but it would have to wait till later.

"I noticed," Grace continued, "that the cuts on her wrists had been made post mortem and I took a sample of the bath water. In which, I found a mix of red food dye and the victim's blood."

"Do you know how she died?"

Grace shook her head in Goren's direction. "Not quite yet. I still have the tox screen out but I did find fluid in her lungs. So either she drowned and was put in the tub or she could have been drugged or had an allergic reaction to something and then drowned but someone would have had to go through the trouble of setting up the bathtub scene. All I have are theories at the moment."

"Could she have drowned in the tub before she bled out?" Eames asked.

"No, because the water in the lungs didn't contain any of her blood or the red dye. I need to run more tests on the water though. I'll have the results from the tox screen and water sample by tomorrow morning if that's ok."

Eames handed Grace a business card. "Just call us when you have the results in."

Grace nodded and slipped the card into her lab coat. "Will do." She watched the detectives walk out and turned back to the body.

"Come on, Sophie, talk to me."

Eames slid behind the wheel and started the car. Goren got into the passenger side, still writing down notes in his binder. She pulled out of the parking space and into city traffic. Two lights later she heard the familiar snap of the binder and click of his seatbelt.

"Well, any thoughts?" she asked him.

"About the body or the ME?"

Eames stifled a laugh as the scene replayed itself again in her mind. "Either one."

"The ME has me more puzzled than the body."

"What do you mean?"

"Did you notice how she referred to the body as 'her body'? Who gets that attached to a victim?"

"Maybe she knew the victim."

"If she knew the victim then she wouldn't do the autopsy." Goren shifted in his seat. "After she told me not to touch the body, she blushed, like she knew she shouldn't have done what she did."

Eames pulled into the parking lot of Police Plaza. "So?"

"She knew she was being territorial. The embarrassment over it shows she doesn't normally get territorial over the bodies."

Eames hit the lock button on her key chain. "Your conclusion?"

Goren scratched the back of his neck. "I don't have one. Yet."

"Well, let's take care of the Kapirelli case then you can go back to figuring out the ME."


	2. Scotch and Apologies

Disclaimer: I don't own Law and Order: CI so please don't sue. I'm not making money off this story.

Sins of the Father

Chapter Two: Scotch and Apologies

Alex Eames sat at her desk in the bullpen and watched her partner pace back and forth in one of the visitor rooms. She had been trying to get some paperwork done from their last case but the constant movement off to her left was slightly more than distracting.

"What's the matter with him?"

Eames looked up to see their Captain, James Deakins, standing next to her desk. He already had his briefcase in his hand, ready to go home for the night. Lucky him.

"New case," she answered, looking down at the form in front of her, attempting to look busy.

"The fake suicide?"

"Yeah."

Deakin's gave the pacing Goren a puzzled look. "You were just given the case this afternoon. You don't even have the tox screen or water test yet. What's he so worked up about?"

Eames sighed. "The ME acted a little…off."

"The ME? Rodgers?"

"No, it's her assistant, Dr. Grace Harris."

"Harris. I heard she was really good. What was off about her?"

"He thought she got territorial about the body."

Deakins raised his eyebrows in slight surprise. "Guess that's what happens when you put two genuises together. Let me know if it becomes a problem to the case."

Eames nodded and watched her boss leave the bullpen. She stood up to pull Goren from the room and send him home but found he had already come out and was typing at his computer. His forehead had those familiar furrows that she had come to associate with his intense thinking.

"Glad to see you've emerged from the visitor's room," Eames said, trying to draw him out of his thoughts.

"I thought the name Harris sounded familiar but how many Harris' are in New York City?"

"I have a feeling you're going to tell me."

"291. Here it is." He pulled a file up on his laptop and turned it so she could see. A picture of a middle-aged man stared back at her. He had a buzz cut that couldn't quite hide the ginger colored hair. The man's sharp green eyes struck her as vaguely familiar. She started reading off the stats.

"Charles Harris, age fifty-one. Busted for possession of heroin."

Goren turned the computer back around. "I was the one that caught him, the last week I worked in narcotics. He listed the only living relative that he had was a daughter, Grace Harris."

"So the ME has a drug addict father. How does that figure in to her feelings for the victim?"

Goren shut the laptop with a quiet click, that look of intense concentration on his face. "I don't know. She has no record whatsoever. The only place where she's listed is in her government file."

"What about her mother?"

"Deceased. That's all it said."

"Why are you so interested in this woman, Bobby? This isn't like you."

Goren shifted in his chair for a full minute and half before finally bringing his fist up to his mouth. "I couldn't profile her."

"You're not suppose to. She's a ME. You profile criminals." Eames sat back in her chair. "You don't think she has anything to do with the Kapirelli murder?"

Goren waved his hand. "No, no. If she were involved she wouldn't have told us about the red dye in the water. There's something else going on with her."

Eames put her paperwork aside and put her suit jacket on. "Well, you can see your new friend tomorrow when we go pick up the tox screen. I'm going home."

"Deakin's leave already?"

Eames nodded her head. "Get some rest, Bobby. I really don't think Dr. Harris is someone that needs or wants to be profiled."

She waited for him to get up from behind his desk but he remained in his thinking pose. Figuring he was lost in thought and beyond her reach, she merely muttered a "night" and left the bullpen herself.

He really enjoyed this time of year. The heat and humidity of summer was fading and giving way to the crisp air of fall. Robert Goren was never much of a summer person, partly because of the temperature, partly because of memories. The humidity wasn't his fault but being unable to control his memories, that was totally different. He saw it as a weakness, one of his greatest. The memories of that sunny summer morning had not faded in the slightest despite his great effort to cause them to disappear. Maybe one day they wouldn't haunt him so much.

He had decided to walk home from the Police Plaza, hoping the cool air would help clear his mind but it only caused it to go from the distressing ME to his disturbed childhood. Not an improvement at all. He was almost two blocks from his apartment when he passed by the local neighborhood bar. He had passed by it many times but could count on his one hand how many times he had been in there. He checked his watch. Quarter to ten. He had time for a drink.

He went to push the door open when the handle was pulled out of his grasp. He started to step aside to let the exiting patron step out of the doorway but upon seeing who it was, he found himself unable to move.

"Dr. Harris."

Startled green eyes stared up at him. "Detective Goren. What are you doing here?"

"I, uh," his mind was fumbling around for something intelligent to say to her. Here was a chance to try to figure out what had caused his profiling blank when it came to the redheaded ME. _Kick it into gear, Goren._ "Are you busy right now?"

She gave him a slightly cautious look. "No, why?"

"Would you mind, uh, having a drink with, um, me?"

"Sure," she nodded and turned right back around and into the bar. Taking a deep breath, he followed her in determined to figure out what exactly lay behind those green eyes.

"Back again so soon, Grace?"

Goren noticed her motion behind her, most likely towards him. "Larry, this is Detective Robert Goren. He and his partner were handed a case today based on an autopsy that I did."

"Ah," the lanky man behind the bar grinned, reached over the bar and shook Goren's hand. "A real life Detective, welcome. First drink is on the house since you're Grace's friend."

Goren noticed Grace gave a half-sideways smirk as she climbed up on a stool at the far end of the bar. Goren followed suit, taking some comfort from the fact that she hadn't outright denied being his friend. He ordered a scotch on the rocks and took the seat next to her.

"Did you want anything?" he asked.

"No, thank you though." She fidgeted with her hands for a moment before finally looking him in the eye. "Detective, I feel like an apology is in order."

Goren nodded his head in thanks to Larry. "Why?"

"I shouldn't have," the red flush of embarrassment crept across her face once more. "I shouldn't have told you not to touch the body today. You have every right to inspect the body to the nth degree. I'm sorry for my overreaction."

"Apology accepted." He took a sip of the scotch and looked around the bar. Despite the late hour, business was still steady for the small bar. But Goren's mind wasn't on the patrons. He was trying to figure out how to continue the conversation of the body. But from the look of the very uncomfortable red head next to him, he realized now was not the time to talk about her emotional attachment to a dead body. Unfortunately, small talk was not his strong point.

"Grace," Larry came over to them, "you sure you don't want anything?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Larry moved off again to refill someone else's drink at the other end of the bar.

"How do you know the bartender here?" Goren asked.

"He's my Uncle."

Goren waited for a further explanation but didn't receive anything verbal from her. Instead, she merely sat on the barstool and stared at her hands. Well, the one thing Bobby Goren wasn't was going to be defeated by an anti-social ME.

"How many years have you been working at the Medical Examiner's office?"

"Five years."

Goren finished his scotch. "You are a very talkative person."

She finally turned to look at him and gave him a wry smile. "Sorry. I guess being around dead people all the time kind of robs you of your conversational talents."

"You deal with dead people, I deal with criminals. I guess both professions take a toll on a social life."

She gave him a genuine smile, one that actually reached her emerald eyes. He didn't know why but he felt that he was one of a select few who had seen her smile like that. But just as fast as the smile appeared it disappeared. And Goren saw why he hadn't been able to profile her like he could anyone else. There was one unguarded moment where she dropped her defenses and he saw who she really was in that one moment.

He was staring at himself. Lonely, odd, quirky, eccentric, how did Eames put it, an acquired taste. She was someone who never made it into the social circles but stood on the edges and watched with envy at those who did make it into the circles.

"The tox screen will be ready first thing tomorrow morning," Grace said.

Goren's mind struggled to come back to the present. He was still reeling from what he had discovered in Grace's face. "What?"

"The tox screen for Sophie Kapirelli. I'll have it ready for you and your partner first thing tomorrow morning."

"Oh, ok."

Grace slid off the barstool. "And uh, you can look over the body all you want tomorrow."

Goren gave her a slight smile. "Sounds good."

She gave him a quick nod of the head and headed for the door, disappearing into the night. Larry had come back and held up the scotch bottle. Goren waved him off.

"No more, thank you. Is she going to be alright getting home?"

Larry put the bottle under the bar. "Yeah, she lives right across the street. She usual stays until closing but something was eating at her tonight. How long have you known Grace?"

Goren looked at his watch. "About eight hours."

"Eight hours? And you got her to smile? Wow. Grace doesn't usual open up to anyone. Well, I hope to see you around again then."

Goren ignored the comment and reached for his wallet but Larry held up his hand.

"No, really, it's on me. I'm Larry Anderson. I'm Grace's uncle on her mother's side."

Goren reached over the bar and shook the man's hand. "Robert Goren. And thank you for your generosity."

After Larry released Goren's hand, the detective headed out into the night himself. He glanced across the street and wondered briefly which apartment was Grace's before heading off to his own apartment.


	3. Death by Scrapbooking

Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: CI and I am not making money off this story. Just borrowing the characters for a little fun. I hope you enjoy!

Sins of the Father

Chapter Three: Death by Scrapbooking

"Grace, that's your fourth cup of coffee."

Grace looked over at Dr. Rodgers, who regarded her with a strange but amused grin. What she said was true. This was her fourth cup. Grace could barely open the sugar packet her hands were shaking so much from the caffeine rush.

"Didn't get much sleep last night," Grace answered and dumped two packets of sugar that she finally got open into the dark liquid. "Got to stay on my toes."

"Ah, that's right. Goren and Eames are coming in the morning for the tox screen. You have to be on your toes around them."

Grace could hear the smile in Rodgers voice and wondered why it is there. She knew Rodgers lived on the other side of town so she couldn't have seen Grace and Goren sitting at a bar together and mistook it as a date. Maybe she heard about the clipboard incident. Grace groaned and hoped she wasn't going to be reprimanded for that action.

Rodger's eyebrows shot up. "What was that groan for?"

Grace rubbed her forehead. "You didn't happen to hear about my meeting with the Detectives yesterday, did you?"

"No, nothing in particular," Rodgers put her hands in her coat pockets. "Only that you did something many of us feel like doing when Detective Goren starts looking at the body."

"I already apologized to him."

"That's fine, I wasn't going to say anything. But I am curious, why did you hit him?"

Grace took a sip of her coffee. If she told Rodgers why she had smacked Goren's wrist she might be removed from the case. However, if she lied about it she could be permanently removed from the morgue. But Rodgers needed and deserved an answer.

"The case just...struck a little close to home. That was all."

Rodgers became very quiet. When she spoke all humor had left her voice and was replace by compassion. "Your mother?"

Grace only nodded her head.

"Well, once the tox screen is given and you tell them you theories you can put it behind you. If I had known I would have reassigned you."

"It's ok. It was twenty-five years ago. It shouldn't bother me anymore."

Rodgers opened her mouth to say something when another ME stopped at the break room door.

"There you are," he announced. "Grace, Detectives Goren and Eames are waiting for you in trace."

Grace, thankful she didn't have to hear Rodgers pity, nodded to the ME and Rodgers on her way out. She didn't want to admit it but twenty-five years wasn't nearly enough time to get over what she had found in her own bathroom.

"Getting the exam in before she gets here?"

"Trying to."

Eames watched her partner go over Sophie Kapirelli's body with precision, every once in awhile looking up at the doors to see when Dr. Harris would come through. It still puzzled her that he allowed the doctor, who was half his size, bully him the way she had.

"What?"

Eames snapped out of her thoughts to find Goren giving her a curious look. "What?"

"You're looking very perplexed." He lifted up the lacerated wrist and gave it a hard stare. "What were you thinking about?"

She hated it when he was so observant but that was what made him such a good detective. She chanced a glace at the doors herself before speaking. "Just wondering why you're letting yourself be intimidated by five foot five skinny red-head."

His head shot up and he let the wrist fall back to the metal table. "I'm not intimidated."

The door to trace swung open and Grace walked into the room Eames noticed Goren step back from the body and she allowed herself a smug smile. He caught it and she mouthed the word "Right" towards him. He merely frowned slightly and looked back the ME.

"The tox screen came back with some very interesting results," Grace told them, handing Eames the folder since Goren still had latex gloves on his hands. Eames opened the folder.

"High levels of cocaine and meth," she read out loud.

"But not enough to O.D. on," Goren noted.

"My theory is this," Grace moved over to the body. "She was using and took too much. The combination and levels lead me to believe that she became violently ill. She rushed to the bathroom to vomit but when she brought her head down, she banged it on the porcelain." Grace pulled some of the hair off the body's forehead to reveal a bruise. "She knocked herself out and since she was already kneeling over the toilet, her head fell into the water. That was how she drowned. The water I found in her lungs had a high chlorine concentration in it which matched the water in the toilet."

Eames had to hand to it the ME, it made sense and had the physical evidence to back it up. But it still left one major question. "So how did she end up in the tub with her wrists slashed?"

Grace shrugged. "That I don't know. But I can tell you for certain that she did not commit suicide. At least, not on purpose."

Eames gave the body one last look over and briefly skimmed over the report. "Well, I guess that concludes our trip to the morgue."

"I'll be releasing the body to her husband this afternoon but I'm going to be keeping a blood, tissue, and hair sample. Also, I have the water found in her lungs, toilet and bathtub saved as well. Is there anything else you would want me to keep on file for you?"

Eames ran through a mental check list and came up with nothing. She saw Goren shake his head in a negative too.

"Okay then," Grace nodded. "My information is on the file I just gave you if have any questions."

Eames watched her leave the room and turned to find Goren with his fingers down the body's throat. She quickly looked away, not sure she would ever get used to his examining habits.

"Warn me before you do that."

"Sorry," he mumbled. She heard him inhale and then strip the gloves off. "Dr. Harris was right, it was toilet water in her lungs. So she did drown before being put in the tub. The cuts on her wrists," he held up the dead woman's arm for Eames to see, "were made with a very narrow, clean blade."

"Razor blade then?"

Goren gave the cut another look and shook his head. "No, even a razor blade would be too wide. This was made with a very fine, detail blade."

"Back to the crime scene then."

"Maybe not, look." Goren lifted the dead woman's hands. He pointed to some very faded stains that looked like ink on the white fingers. "If she was in the tub for as long as the report said, any normal ink would have worn off. But there's a specialty ink that scrapbookers use, it's a permanent ink and wouldn't wash off until a few days later."

Eames gave him a slightly confused look. "I don't see how it's important that she did scrapbooking."

"One of the basic needs listed for scrapbooking tools is a craft knife. It's like an exacto knife only thinner for detail work."

"We find the craft knife, we find the murder weapon."

"Exactly."

Eames handed the autopsy report to Goren who slid it into his binder. "Death by scrapbooking. That's definitely a new one."

It was a Friday night and Robert Goren could have thought of half a dozen things he would rather be doing than what currently occupied his time. He'd even be willing to do paperwork at this point. A groan from his left caused him to turn and see Eames waist high is garbage bags.

"If we don't find this knife Goren, you're going to owe me a new suit."

"Deal." He pulled another bag out of the dumpster and ripped it open. Pulling out coffee grinds, banana peels and junk mail he came to what looked like a brand new hand towel. "What have we here?" He unfolded the terrycloth to reveal a small craft knife.

"Is there any sign of blood on it?" Eames asked.

Goren held it up to the streetlamp. "Not that I can tell but that doesn't mean there isn't. Let's call Dr. Harris and see if she can find any blood to match Kapirelli's."

Eames nodded and started throwing the bags back into the dumpster. Goren bagged the knife and helped his partner clean up the mess they had made rummaging through the trash.

"Maybe you should call her," Eames said with a smirk, "You two seemed to get along better today."

"She apologized to me last night."

Eames threw a small grocery bag full of paper and almost missed the dumpster. "What? Last night?"

Goren realized he shouldn't have said anything. But there was no taking it back so he told Eames about his chance meeting with Dr. Harris at the bar. She watched him with those upraised eyebrows. He sighed and threw his gloves into the dumpster as she did the same.

"It wasn't planned," he told her on their walk back to the car.

"So you've said, twice."

Goren pulled the autopsy file out of his binder when they reached the car. He dialed her cell phone number since she wouldn't be in her office at six p.m.. Two rings later, she picked up.

"Dr. Harris, this is Detective Goren."

"Yes. What can I do for you?"

"We think we found the murder weapon. We need you to run tests to confirm it."

"Alright. I'm out right now, running an...errand. I can meet you at the ME's office in about an hour. Is that ok?"

"Sure. We'll see you then."

Eames started the car as Goren slid into the passenger seat. "Well?"

"She's not at the office right now but will be in an hour. I told her we would meet her there."

"An hour?" Eames looked at her watch. "I promised to watch my nephew tonight so my sister and brother-in-law could go see a movie."

"When do you need to be there?"

"7:30."

"Drop me by the ME's and you can drive out to your sisters and still make it there by 7:30."

Eames smiled wickedly. "Another night alone with the ME?"

"It's nothing. I'll call you when we get results back from the lab."


	4. Cracked, Not Broken

Disclaimer: Don't own, Don't sue. Thank you.

Sins of the Father

Chapter Four: Cracked, Not Broken

Grace closed her cell phone and breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing she wanted was for Goren and Eames to find out she was at the homeless shelter. She looked at her watch. She had an hour and a half to finish this and get back to office. Opening the door, she made her way to the receptionist. Pulling the old, dog-eared photo out of her jacket pocket, Grace showed it to the worn looking woman behind the counter.

"I'm looking for this man, he goes by the name of Charlie."

"Yes, I know him. He's in the main hall, I think. Dinner's being served."

"Thank you," Grace pocketed the photo and headed towards to the main hall. The hall was filled with people, close to two hundred at least. It didn't take her long to find Charlie and make a beeline for him. He caught sight of her when she was just a couple rows away from him and stood up, spreading his arms wide.

"Gracie! What are you doing here? Thanksgiving already?"

She brushed off his intent to hug her. "I'm not here for fun, I just need your permission for something."

"Sure, Gracie, anything. What do you need?"

She pulled a form out of her leather backpack and put it on the table with a pen. "I need you to sign this form so I can exhume my mother's body for another autopsy."

Charlie gave her a confused look. "Exhume? What does that mean?"

Grace rubbed her forehead. "It means to dig up the body so I can look at it again."

"Look at it again? What would you want to do that for?"

"I think it's possible that Mom was killed instead of killing herself. I need your permission to dig up her body."

Charlie looked at the papers and then back at Grace. Finally, he just laid a hand on Grace's arm. "Gracie, she's gone. It doesn't really matter whether she was killed or took her own life. It's not going to bring her back."

"But she might have been killed for a reason. Other people might have died the same way."

"Then they're dead too, Gracie. It doesn't matter. I'm sorry. I'm not signing these papers."

Grace felt the heat rise to her face. "What about me, then? What about giving me closure on this?"

Charlie sighed wearily. "If you haven't dealt with your mother's death yet, Gracie, you never will."

Grace ground her teeth together, fighting the urge to cry. "It's one thing you don't care that she's dead, it's another for stopping me from finding the truth."

Charlie looked at her with open-mouth shock. She knew he was stuttering to find something to say to counter what her accusation but she grabbed the paper off the table and turned to leave before he could say anything. She had a fifteen minute walk back to the ME's office to cool down before facing the two Detective's and their murder weapon.

Goren paced up and down the hallway outside of the door marked "Dr. G. Harris." Eames had dropped him off twenty minutes ago and he still had another fifteen minutes left before eight o'clock. He had tried to focus on the case, he really did. He had read over his notes, ran through conspiracy theories and started working on a list of suspects for the interviewing process that was to start tomorrow morning. But every time he left his mind wander, it always went to that moment when those green eyes dropped their defense.

He rubbed a hand over his face. He couldn't afford this right now. His mother was still in a cationic state, no sign of her coming out of it any time soon. Eames was still walking on eggshells around him even though he had assured her nothing had changed. On the surface, nothing had changed but he saw that silent apology every time she looked at him. And now, this ME had his mind upside down and inside out because of her personal defenses. The fact that he couldn't profile her didn't bother him anymore; it was more of the realization that there was someone else like him in this world.

"Where's your partner?"

He looked up to see Grace hurrying down the hall. Her face was flushed and she was out of breath. At first he thought it was just from the brisk air outside but she refused to look at him and instead swiped at her eyes.

"My partner?" he asked, following her into her office.

Grace threw her leather knapsack into a chair in the corner. "Your partner. Where is she?"

"She, uh, had to watch her nephew. I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand. She looked very worn, physically and emotionally.

"Are you alright, Dr. Harris?"

"Yeah," her eyes finally snapped open and she gave him a strained smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. What do you have?"

Goren pulled the knife out of his binder and handed the evidence bag to Grace. "We found this in a dumpster one block from the crime scene. It was wrapped in a hand towel."

"This is a craft knife."

"You scrapbook?"

Grace looked at him slightly surprised. "You know about scrapbooking?"

Goren shifted on his feet. "I, uh, read a lot."

"Hm. Well, let's go the lab and see if anything can be pulled from this." Grace headed out of the office with Goren on her heels. He had tried to gather any personal information from her office but found nothing personal there.

"Do you have any family in the city?" he asked her.

"Some."

"Siblings?"

"Two sisters."

Realizing she wasn't willing to talk at all, Goren gave up the discussion. He sat back in the lab and watched her handle the craft knife with steady handed proficiency. It was odd to see the tension and weariness melt away as she examined the knife and realized he probably came across the same way during an interrogation. She sprayed and scraped the blade, looking at the scrapings under a very hi-tech looking microscope. Stepping back she reached into a filing cabinet and pulled out another petri dish, sliding it under another microscope.

"Detective, I believe we have a match."

"Any fingerprints on the handle?"

She put the knife in a tray and used a large brush to go over the handle. "Sorry, no fingerprints. It was wiped clean."

"Handle was wiped clean but the blood remained on the blade."

"Probably a novice," Grace answered.

Goren nodded thoughtfully. "Could be a drug related killing."

"Could be a husband covering up his wife's drug problem."

"Could be a message to the husband."

Grace slammed the petri dish draw shut causing Goren to jump. The tense shoulders showed through the red-gold curls and he knew her relaxation from the investigation was gone. He was back to the bothered ME that he hardly knew.

"I, uh, have to call Eames and tell her the blood was a match."

"Fine," she mumbled as she brushed past him out in the hallway.

He didn't know what was driving him to reach out to this woman but he had come to trust his instincts and sent out a flailing invitation.

"Do you want to come with me for a drink?"

Grace stopped mid-stride and turned to look at him. "What?"

"For bringing you back to the office so late. Would you allow me to take you out for a drink." He realized she didn't look like convinced. "We could go to your Uncle's bar, if you want." He swore he could see the gears turning in her head. After thirty seconds of deliberation, she finally gave him a half shrug.

"Let me go lock my office then."

It was a small victory but at least he had a few hours to find out what was going on with Grace. He dialed Eames' number to give her an update on the finding and hoped he could pacify Grace.

Grace stared into her cosmopolitan trying to come up with something, anything, civil to the man hunkered down next to her. What she couldn't wrap her mind around was why she had accepted his offer if she wasn't going to speak to him at all. She had to hand it to him, he was taking her silence very well.

"Do you have any family living in the city?" she finally asked him and realized it might not have been the best question to start with. She watched his reflection in the mirror that was behind the bar. He looked like a boy trying to figure out how to get out of an unpleasant chore. Grace figured she shouldn't let him flounder any more. "Sorry. I guess that was kind of personal."

He shook his head. "No, it wasn't. I asked you. Turn-around is fair game." He took a swig of his scotch. "My mother lives in the city."

Grace nodded, realizing that admittance had cost him a degree of personal liability. She decided not to press the issue of family. God knows she didn't feel like talking about her family right now. "My mother died when I was seven. Now we're even so no more family talk."

"Good." He tapped her cosmo glass with his scotch glass. "What do you do when you're not cutting up dead bodies?"

Grace had to tell herself that he was only trying to be polite and it would be best if she was polite back. Who knew? Maybe she could actually forget about her family for a couple hours. Besides, Goren seemed like a nice guy. He definitely wasn't unpleasant to look at. What would it hurt to play nice? "I like to read. I do scrapbook and I play a musical instrument and give lessons at a local community center."

"When do you find the time to fit all that in?"

Grace shrugged. "I don't have many friends but I do have insomnia. What about you?"

"I read, a lot. I have a friend who rebuilds classic cars so on the weekends I go out there and help him. What do you read?"

Grace smirked and looked down into her glass. "I have the complete collection of Gary Larson's _The Far Side_."

Goren let out a genuine laugh. "I thought I was the only one that had all the _Far Side_ books."

Grace found herself laughing with him and couldn't figure out what they were laughing at. And for the first time in a very long time, she couldn't have cared less.

Larry stepped over to the two with a wide grin himself. "You two better keep it down over here or I might have to throw you out. You guys need refills?"

Both shook their heads and Larry moved off again. Goren fiddled with his glass and rubbed his face with his hands. He noticed Grace watching him in the mirror with a look of curiosity.

"I need, to uh," he fumbled around for words, "ask you something."

She finished her cosmopolitan. "Okay."

"Yesterday in the morgue, you referred to Sophie Kapirelli as 'your body.' Why?" He watched her reaction carefully, not just from the mirror but up close. Eames was always getting on his case for invading people's personal space but his argument each time was that you never saw the details unless you did invade that space. And right now he saw a very disturbed young woman who was searching for words herself.

"Did you know Sophie Kapirelli, Dr. Harris?"

She shook her head and looked away. If he didn't know better, he could have sworn he saw tears in her eyes.

"Why does that interest you, Detective? It was merely a slip of the tongue."

His interrogation skills were kicking in and he couldn't keep stop himself. Words were coming out faster than he could process them. He wasn't in a bar anymore. He was 1 Police Plaza, Eleventh Floor in a stark interrogation room. The crime: a verbal slip.

"See, I don't think it was," he leaned forward, even closer to her. "You were embarrassed by your actions which means you think you did something wrong. Normally, you don't get that over protective of the bodies but you did this time. Why?"

"It doesn't matter."

The snappishness of her answer didn't faze him. Instead, he merely plowed on with single minded determination. "It matters to you. Did she remind you of someone? A friend, perhaps, that had died in a similar way?"

Grace's head swung back to face him. Her green eyes shimmering with unshed tears were now ablaze with a well-checked fury. "You're pushing your luck now, Detective. I'm not some suspect in a crime. I'm definitely not here for you to interrogate."

Goren sat back on the barstool. He was so close to finding out the answer, so close he practical taste it. "Maybe it was a family member then?"

It happened in a split second and it took him a full minute to realize what exactly had happened. His right cheek was still stinging when the event had finally been processed. She had slapped across the face and promptly left the bar. At least, he didn't see her anywhere.

"Detective Goren?"

Abashed by his actions he found he couldn't even look Larry in the face. "I'm sorry. I guess I asked too many questions."

The older man sighed, like he was laying down a heavy burden. "No, don't be sorry. Grace has always been…touchy when it comes to her mother's death. She, uh, found her mother…in the bathtub…when she was seven years old."

Goren covered his face with his hands. Her mother. He, more than anyone else, should know how it feels to be exploited because of your mother. For some reason those were the wounds that never healed. He was surprised she had just slapped him. The emotions of when he found out what had happened to his mother came flooding back in waves of anger and helplessness. He deserved much worse than a slap.

"716."

Goren looked up at Larry. "What?"

"716 is Grace's apartment number."

"I can't...not after-"

"Please," Larry leaned across the bar with genuine concern in his eyes, "you're the only person who has ever gotten a reaction out her over her mother."

"The only reaction?"

Larry looked around before dropping his eyes to the bar. "I didn't know my sister had died until two weeks after the fact. She was buried somewhere on the edge of the city limits in a potter's field. But Grace and her sisters were already in foster care. My wife and I tried for years to get the girls. But when Grace turned fifteen, she took her sisters and we couldn't track them down after that. She didn't show up on our doorstep until her eighteenth birthday and that was to ask if we could keep watch over her sisters while she went to NYU.

"Her youngest sister, Sara, was still very upset over the loss of their mother and then with Grace leaving for college on top of that. Sara had a nightmare one night, woke up screaming for Grace. She told my wife that in the dream Grace jumped onto their mother's pine box and was buried with it. She asked her why in the world she would think that Grace would do such thing. She said that Grace had done just that.

"The middle girl, Angela, told the story of how the graveyard crew were just going to bury the pine box but that Grace wasn't ready to leave yet so she jumped into the shallow grave and laid down on the top of the box. And that was all. The girls said that after that day Grace carried on as normal. No tears, no depression, nothing."

"Survival kicked in," Goren murmured. He knew that feeling all too well. He and Grace were more alike than he originally thought. "716?"

Larry nodded and Goren headed out of the bar and across the street to the apartment building.


	5. Somtimes You Can't Make it on Your Own

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.

Author's Note: I'm sorry this chapter is so short but it was quite draining to write. I also want to say a very heartfelt thank you to my reviewers. You all have been such a huge encouragement to me. I dedicate this chapter to you all. Thank you so much!

Sins of the Father

Chapter Five: Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own

She was going to be arrested. She was certain of it. Any minute now, a group of officers were going to knock down her door and slap the cuffs on. She grabbed the whiskey bottle off the counter and swallowed a mouthful. If she was going to be dragged out of her apartment with cuffs on her wrists she did not want to be sober enough to remember. Assault on an officer. It was going to look _real_ good on her record. She was on her fourth mouthful of whiskey when the knock on her door came. Carrying the bottle with her, she opened the door without looking to see who it was.

It surprised her to see the lone form of Detective Goren standing at her door, hands in his pockets and looking sheepish. She took a step towards him and looked out into the hallway.

"Where are your friends?"

Goren looked at her with slight confusion. "What?"

"Aren't you going to arrest me?"

He took notice of the bottle of whiskey. "Should I arrest you?"

Grace walked away from the door and put the bottle in the kitchen. By the time she had made it back into the living room of her apartment, Goren was already there, looking around. She didn't have too much, a book case with medical books and her _Far Side _collection. She had a couple pictures hanging around, a second hand couch, a chair and a humble TV.

"This is nice," he commented. "This building, it's historic, isn't it?"

Grace wrapped her arms around herself, putting as much distance as she could between her and Goren. She didn't know why she felt so threatened by having his large frame in her small living room but it shook her to the core just the same. He was very...intimidating.

"I guess I should apologize, again. I just...I don't know what came over me."

"Can we sit, please?"

She motioned for him to sit and he folded his frame on her small couch, making it look even smaller. She crossed the room and sat down in the armchair. Silence hung between them and Grace shifted in the chair as Goren did the same thing. It took her a few seconds to realize that he looked more uncomfortable than she did, rubbing his face with his hands, leaning forward and back on the couch. He was making her dizzy.

"I really mean it," she said, "I am sorry for slapping you."

"I know, and I need to apologize to you. I shouldn't have treated you like a suspect."

Grace nodded. "I guess you want an explanation."

"No, actually, your Uncle told me about your mother."

"Okay." Grace propped up her head on her hand and watched Goren. With knowing what he did about her mother he sure didn't show any shock or disgust. Then again, she wasn't sure just how much Uncle Larry had told him either. He might have left out the unpleasant details. "What did Larry tell you?"

Goren looked down at his hands. "He told me that you found your mother in the bathtub, wrists slit, when you were seven. He also told me about you at the graveyard, uh, jumping on the coffin."

"How did he know..." she paused. "My sisters, of course. You do stupid things when you're kid and you're left alone."

"I don't know if I should ask you this, but where was your father during all of this?"

Grace's jaw clenched involuntarily. "My father showed up whenever he needed something. He was in and out my whole life. He has a, um…drug problem." She wished that he wouldn't ask her any more questions. With four shots of whiskey and a cosmopolitan in her, she was afraid her answers would reveal too much. She had survived this long solely on keeping her wounds hidden. It was going to take more than just a few well-phrased questions to break down twenty-five years worth of emotional walls.

Then he did something that totally caught her off guard. He looked at her, straight in the eye. Grace tried to look away but found some form of comfort there. She never really cared much for guys with brown eyes, too average, she told herself. But his were different...whether it was color-related or just the emotions behind them, she couldn't tell. There was such sympathy, a kind devoid of all pity. She could practically feel half those walls crumble. Silently, she begged him not to say anything more. But when he broke eye contact, she knew he would not heed her request.

"I know what it's like to grow up without parents."

Grace looked down at her hands and found them shaking. She folded them in her lap, interlocking her fingers so tightly that her knuckles were white and her wrists hurt. Even though she wasn't looking at him anymore, she still willed him to be silent.

"My mother has...mental issues. My father left when I was eleven. I know what it feels like to be abandoned as a child and forced to take care of the family. I had a younger brother that needed looking after and then my mother needed help. It's...overwhelming."

"That's an understatement." Grace was shocked at the bitterness in her voice. She had planned on letting him talk. She didn't realize she had actually been listening.

"You had two sisters that needed to be taken care of after your mother died. You were seven, how old were they?"

"I don't see what the point is in all of this." Grace felt that by ignoring his questions she was slowly fixing the damage that he had done. "We both had a terrible childhood. We survived. We overcame. End of story."

"But see, it's not the end, is it?"

Grace turned away from him again and stared out the window. Why did he have to be right about this? If he really understood what she was going through then he wouldn't be pushing the matter.

"What happens to us as children never leaves us. How could it? The fear, the hurt, the anger; it may lessen but it never gets resolved completely."

Grace heard him move but didn't look up to see what new position he had settled into. Unfortunately, she didn't have to move to see him. He had knelt down in front of her, tilting his head so he could look at her in the face. She tried to look away from him but no matter where her eyes moved, his followed.

"Grace, listen to me. I know what it's like to be trapped in a room..."

Grace squeezed her eyes shut. She knew truth rang in each of his words. He did understand the feeling. The wall she had been rebuilding fell again.

"To wait in the dark, listening for footsteps to come down the hall..."

Another wall fell. There was a burning sensation behind her eyelids.

"Waiting for that door to open and someone to pick you up..."

Down came another wall. Grace felt something wet hit her hand. If any more tears fell, she didn't feel them on her hands because Goren had placed his over hers.

"And carry you out of that room. Out of the darkness and fear. Away from the hurt and anger."

Grace leaned forward, feeling her forehead come into contact with his suit jacket. Control over her tears was useless. He had broken through years of protection and ripped open her wounds. He was the first one who had tried to reach her. True, she had been sent to counseling in college but she knew she was just a number. There was no caring, no connection. Goren had been there. He had been in that dark "room" that it's every abused child's mind. Someone had pulled him out and now he was pulling her out. She heard his voice in her ear and felt his arms come around her shoulders.

"Someone's walking down the hallway, Grace. Someone's coming for you."

She slid off the chair, leaning fully into him. Sobs wracked her body. The hurt and anger that he had referred to seemed to seep out of the reopened wounds in her spirit. She felt him rock back on his heels, like he would rock a child to sleep. The feeling of safety was irrepressible.

"_I'm_ coming for you, Grace."


	6. Released

Disclaimer: Don't own, not making money, don't sue.

Sins of the Father

Chapter Six: Released

Bobby fell asleep somewhere around three in the morning. At least he assumed it was three because that was the last number he remembered. Now the VCR clock read 7:30 and the orange light from the sunrise was starting to creep across the living room floor. There was still dead weight against his chest, which meant that Grace was still sound asleep.

He replayed last night's events back as the sun made it's slow rise over the horizon of skyscrapers. Normally he wouldn't have pushed so hard but he never came across a person like Grace before. He knew many people, if not all people, carried around with them scars and demons. The two went hand in hand. He knew all about that.

The demons of abandonment, schizophrenia, and failure chased him with relentless pursuit. The scars that they left were that of mistrust, fear and self-doubt. He dealt with people every day that used those scars as excuses and blamed their demons for their actions. Then there were people, like him and Grace, who merely chose to live peaceably with their demons and slowly nurse their wounds that would later turn into scars if they ever healed.

He had watched the curious ME disintegrate in front of him as he assured her she wasn't alone with her hurts. He watched as she sobbed herself to sleep, clinging to his shirt as if it were her lifeline. Looking down at her now he saw she still had a good grip on the blue material. But the tension in her face was long gone. It was then that he realized just how young she looked.

There were no slight creases around her eyes or mouth, which meant she didn't smile much. Given what he knew about her now, he understood why. Her forehead however, did have the faint lines of furrows. Her skin was that of normal redhead, very pale with splashes of freckles, like someone had flung a greasy spoon at her face and the grease spatters remained. With some consternation, he realized she couldn't have been older than twenty-eight, if that. She was just over half his age.

Speaking of age, he shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. He had remained on the floor, rocking Grace back and forth, trying to bring her some comfort in the pain, and didn't want to try to move her after she had fallen asleep. He had merely opted for sitting on the floor with his back up against the armchair with Grace still cradled in his arms. Unfortunately, his movement didn't go unnoticed and Grace finally stirred.

He watched with fascination as her forehead furrowed and her eyes slowly opened. It was comical, in it's own way, how her eyes widened when she realized the predicament she was in. Those green eyes slowly looked up at him with distinct shock and...amazement? Why shouldn't it be amazement? She was no stranger to abandonment either. Something deep inside of him twinged when she looked up at him. He couldn't place what exactly it was, but something had changed. Choosing to ignore it, he gave her a half grin.

"Good morning."

She launched herself to her feet as soon as the words left his mouth. She looked around the apartment and finally just covered her face with her hands.

"Oh my-I'm so sorry," the muffled words reached his ears. He pulled himself up as Grace continued to groan behind her hands.

"This is so embarrassing."

Bobby tried to smooth out his shirt from the wrinkles left by her clutching hands. "Why?"

"I just...I never...This doesn't happen to me."

He regarded her with a curious expression. "What doesn't happen to you?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Everything that happened last night. The crying, the fact that you're still here, the fact that you..."

He waited for her to finish her thought but she didn't. "That I'm what?"

"Nothing. Look, the least I can do is offer you breakfast for all your trouble."

"You cook?"

Grace laughed slightly. "No. But there's a coffee house one block up."

"I know where that is. I only live two blocks away. Give me a half hour to get some clean clothes and I'll meet you there."

Grace nodded. "Okay. See you in a half hour then."

Bobby picked up his coat and pulled it on as he stepped out the door. He had a suspicious feeling she was going to skip out on their breakfast...date? No, not date but what else would he call it? He sincerely hoped she would show just so he could see if there was any difference in her attitude. If he was able to talk to her in a regular conversation he could tell if he really had reached her. Thinking about reaching out to Grace the way he did, his words came back to him.

"I know what it's like to be trapped in a room, to wait in the dark, listening for footsteps to come down the hall. Waiting for that door to open and someone to pick you up and carry you out of that room. Out of the darkness and fear. Away from the hurt and anger."

He tried to imagine the look on Eames' face if he ever told her that she was his savior. Those five years of being his partner, willingly playing the role of his "wife" on various occasions, watching his interrogations and having it not affect their partnership. But it wasn't until that day on the witness stand that she had released him from that room. Her emotion and threatening tears had proven to him the extent of their friendship. Granted, he felt like throttling the defense attorney for throwing a five-year-old letter in her face but her reaction had been his salvation. Her apology had unlocked the door. And he would be forever grateful to her.

Grace practically ran from her apartment building to the coffee house. She managed to shower, change, down four aspirin for her hangover, both alcoholic and emotional, and left her apartment right on time. If it hadn't been for her neighbor she would have gotten to the coffee house on time. The last thing she wanted was for Goren to think she was standing him up. Not after what he had done for her, pushing through her emotional barriers despite her abuse. She felt her cheeks flush from embarrassment as she remembered striking him across the face. But he still pursued her, still tried to reach her. And he did.

She looked through the window of the coffee house as she slowed to a more dignified pace. She caught sight of him seated towards the back of the café, his forehead creased in concentration. He probably was thinking she wasn't going to show. It was then that she realized something about him. Watching him look around the café, particularly the door, she understood and it actually frightened her.

He cared. Someone cared about what happened to her, Grace Harris. The girl who had fought her way out of every situation life handed her, the girl who had single handedly outran child services and raised her two younger sisters. The girl no one cared about finally found someone who did. And there was only one explanation as to why he cared: he had lived a similar life. He showed her he cared, now it was time for her to repay the favor. She stepped inside and was greeted with warmth and the smell of many flavors of caffeine. Goren spotted her the minute she walked in and was on his feet.

"Sit down," she waved to him. "Sorry I'm late but my neighbor across the hall was interested to know how I've been. You might actually know him, he's a police officer."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "What precinct?"

Grace glanced over the menu. "27th."

"I know a few from there. Who is it?"

"Ed Green."

Goren laughed. "Oh yeah, I know him. Good cop."

"Good neighbor too. I hardly ever hear him and if we haven't seen each other for a few days we always knock on each other's door to make sure we're both alive. He's a nice guy."

"It's nice to have good neighbors. Everyone just leaves me alone in my building."

"Before Ed moved in everyone left me alone too. My profession isn't all that popular when it comes to establishing relationships with people. I gave up on dating a few years ago. Whenever the question comes up 'So, what do you do for a living?.' My answer kind of ends the date right there."

"Usually my pager goes off before the main course comes. Being on call constantly doesn't usually give women a warm and fuzzy feeling. And if the pager doesn't get them then my partner usually does."

Grace gave him a wry smile. "You bring your partner with you on dates?"

"No," he laughed, "I meant when they find out that I work closely with a woman partner they suddenly lose interest for some reason."

"Hm, jealousy, not a nice emotion." Grace sat back in her chair and looked at Goren. Or should she call him Bobby now? He had changed into a black T-shirt and jeans. A black leather jacket hung over the back of his chair. His hair was black but laced with gray, giving it a very smoky look but his face looked years younger than the hair color implied. She really couldn't guess his age. "How old are you?" It was out her mouth before she knew it. Thankfully, he laughed.

"Only if you tell me your age."

Grace nodded. "Fair deal. I'm thirty-two."

"Forty-four."

Twelve years difference. Significant but not overwhelming. His eyes, on the other hand, looked like they had seen more than one lifetime. Considering what he saw on the street alone could be the reason for that. But there was something else in those dark eyes. Something that was very familiar to her.

"You told me bits and pieces of your family. You know more about my dysfunctional family than I know about yours." Grace looked down and played with the paper napkin in front of her. "We must have similar backgrounds for you to...reach out to me the way you did."

He gave her that shy, boyish look like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The waitress came and saved him from an answer for the time being. They placed their order and when the waitress left, that uncomfortable look came across his face again. Finally, he seemed to find the words and the courage to say them.

"My mother has schizophrenia. She is in a hospital in the suburbs."

"Carmel Ridge."

He gave her a very surprised look. "You know it?"

"Uh, yeah, I've heard of it. So she's there?"

"Yeah. My Dad walked out when I was eleven, saying he couldn't handle my mom's condition any more. That her illness wasn't 'part of the deal' I believe is how he put it."

"Did you see him at all after that?"

Goren waved a hand dismissively. "The next time I saw him was at the morgue. I had to identify the body and clean out his apartment."

"I'm waiting for that day myself."

"You know where you Dad is?"

Grace nodded. "He jumps from homeless shelter to homeless shelter. I've offered to take him in many times but he's got a drug problem he just refuses to deal with. You mentioned a brother?"

Their food came and they both took time to fix their coffee. When everything was set did Goren continue the conversation.

"I have a younger brother, three years younger actually. He's, uh," Goren rubbed the back of his neck, "got a gambling problem."

Grace nodded in understanding. "I have similar sibling. Only she's following in our parents footsteps."

"Drugs?"

"And prostitution. I can't tell you how many times I've had to pull her out of raves, clubs, off street corners and the ER." Grace sighed. "That's just another call I'm waiting for."

As if on cue, both their cell phones rang at the same time. Grace picked up hers and looked at the caller ID. It was Dr. Rodgers. Flipping the phone open, she turned in her seat to give Goren some privacy for his call.

"Dr. Harris."

"Grace, I'm sorry. I know it's your day off but another body was found. Another ME just called me saying that the suicide wasn't a suicide and wanted to know if it could be related to your case. I have the address for you."

Grace grabbed a clean napkin and quickly scribbled down the address. She promised to go and look for herself before hanging up, slightly saddened by the disruption of her breakfast...date? She glanced over at Goren who was writing something down on his own napkin. Well, what else was she supposed to think about it?

He hung up his phone and slipped it into his jacket pocket. "Another body's been found."

Grace held up her address. Goren gave her a wry smile and held up his address. It was the same address.

"Eames is going to meet us over there."

Grace nodded and gathered up her bagel and coffee. "You grab a cab and I'll take care of the bill. I need to stop by and get a med kit. You can ride with me from the ME's office if you want."

Goren grabbed his own food. "Meet you out there then."


	7. Thai Perfume

Disclaimer: You all know the drill…

Author's Note: I just want to say another great big thank you to all of you who have left a review! You have no idea what it means to me!

Sins of the Father

Chapter Seven: Thai Perfume

"Up here." Eames stepped back from the window and watched as her partner stepped out of the ME's SUV. It didn't really surprise her to see the redheaded ME get out of the driver's side. Goren was dressed very casually, as was the ME. Eames smiled to herself but quickly hid it as the two stepped through the apartment door. If they were coming off a date there was nothing between them that gave any hint of that. Just strictly business.

"The body's in there," Eames pointed towards the bedroom in the back. She watched as Dr. Harris moved through the room quickly, giving it a once over before heading down the hallway. Goren already had his binder out and was writing down notes. "Deakins wanted me to give you his apologies for cutting into our days off but he figured since we were already on the Kapirelli case we should be here too."

"Have you talked to anyone yet?"

"Just the person, who found her, her roommate," Eames pointed over to the kitchen where a young girl was sitting at the breakfast bar, tissues wadded up in her hands. Eames continued to tell Goren what the conversation had been like. "She came in early this morning from clubbing and saw the light was on in her roommates room. She went to check on her, make sure everything was alright. That's when she found her friend hanging from the rafters."

"We have a name for the dead girl?"

"Tabbatha Lewis. Age twenty-two. Just graduated from NYU with a bachelors in English Literature."

"The roommate's name?"

"Amy Whitefield. Same age, graduated at the same time but with a bachelor's in Writing."

Goren finished his notes and moved off down the hallway. Eames noticed the photographers were still taking photos, flashes were going off intermittently around the room. Grace was standing on a chair examining the woman's neck.

"Find anything?" Goren asked.

Grace frowned. "I might have, though I can't say for sure. I need to have x-rays done on her neck." She leaned back so Goren and Eames could see the area she was pointing to. "This bruising right here, that might be from breaking the neck in a twisting motion. If she hung herself the break should be slanted somewhat, from front to back."

"Any note?"

Grace shook her head and looked at Eames, who also shook her head. Goren jotted that fact down and then something strange hit him. It was a scent. A familiar scent. Perfume he had smelled before.

"Do you smell that?"

"No," Eames answered.

Grace jumped down off the chair. "I can't smell anything."

Goren and Eames both looked at the ME with curious expressions. Grace shifted on her feet and blushed slightly.

"It's all the formaldehyde. It burned the lining in my nose."

Eames nodded in understanding and went back to Goren's announcement of the scent. "What does it smell like?"

Goren walked around the body, trying to figure out where the scent was coming from. It seemed it was strongest from around the shoulder blades. "The attacker was a woman. It's perfume I smell. I've smelt it before, just can't remember where." He stepped up on the chair that Grace had vacated. He leaned towards the shoulders and inhaled again. "The attacker did snap her neck before hanging her up here."

Eames watched as realization came over Goren's face and she didn't like it one bit. Goren stepped down off the chair and immediately started pacing. She gave him a few seconds before demanding to know what he had realized. "Goren, care to share?"

"The neck snapped that way...the perfume..."

"Who is it?"

He stopped his frantic pacing and fixed her with a mixed stare of frustration and disappointment. He huffed in aggravation.

"Nicole Wallace."

Grace shut the back doors of the SUV once the body had been loaded and looked around the crime scene one last time. Everything was loaded and now she had to run tests and examine the body back at the morgue. She stepped around the suburban and almost ran into Detective Eames.

"Sorry, Detective."

The slightly smaller woman gave her a smile. "No problem. Are you leaving?"

"Yeah. I'll send the tox screen out ASAP. Hopefully we'll get it back before this afternoon. I'll also have those x-rays for you before two."

"Is this normally your day off too?"

"Yeah but much like you and your partner, I'm on call constantly. Especially with cases like these." Grace paused by the driver's door. "Detective Eames, who is Nicole Wallace?"

Eames grimaced. "You have six hours?"

"Wow, that bad, huh?"

"Let's just say we've been chasing after her for going on three years now. She especially has it in for Goren."

Grace tried to hide her displeasure at the revelation but one quick look at Eames' face showed she hadn't succeeded. Instead, she merely slid her sunglasses on and climbed into the driver's seat. Before shutting the door she turned back to Eames.

"I'll do my best to get as much information as I can for you both."

"Will four o'clock be enough time for the tox screen to come back?"

Grace nodded. "I'll have it for you."

Eames backed away from the SUV and Grace started the engine. She watched as Eames walked over to her partner who was still writing down things in his folder. She could pull a vial of blood and send it down to the tox department and do preliminary research on the body. She was hoping to get the tox screen, x-ray and any evidence retrieval done before two so she could do some research on her own.

It was hard not to notice how that name had upset Goren. And given Eames' reaction to the name as well did not bode well for the two detectives. After seeing how Goren had treated her last night and this morning, she had a hard time believing that this one woman, Nicole Wallace, could have shook him so much. Then again, human depravity never ceased to amaze her.

Grace checked her watch. 4:03. Goren and Eames should be walking through her office doors any second. She kept her hand on the mouse, ready to close the Internet page for when the two detectives showed up. For some reason, she had a feeling that they would not appreciate her researching Wallace and her past exploits. She knew that they would especially not appreciate the fact that she had done some minor hacking into the online depositions concerning the court cases on Wallace.

She found out a quite a bit about Wallace from her preliminary research. The woman had studied at Oxford, went on a killing spree with a Frenchman in Thailand where they both were imprisoned but with different sentences. After she was released from Thailand she went back to Australia, where she killed a woman by the name of Elizabeth Hitchens and came to the US under the guise of Hitchens. After that, there was just a string of murders, mostly men, which followed her. If her main targets tended to be men, why was she killing women now?

"Dr. Harris?"

Grace hit the close button and turned off her computer screen. Eames and Goren were blocking the doorway. She gave them a brief smile before picking up the folder for Tabbitha and headed towards the door.

"Found some interesting things with Tabbitha, Detectives." Grace passed by them and started down to trace evidence. "First, the tox screen came back with traces of cocaine and meth, the same quantity and potency that was found in Sophia Kapirelli. Which means-"

"They both got their drugs from the same source," Goren finished.

"Nicole's dealing drugs now, that's new for her," Eames said.

"If she was dealing drugs there would be no reason to kill off her customers." Goren asked. "Anything else?"

"Her neck was snapped by a quick twist to the left. Here are the X-rays to show the break. The set up looks to be to the same. She was drugged enough to allow herself to be killed and strung up like she had committed suicide. There was no other evidence on the body but I did send her shirt to be analyzed. As soon as I have the results back from that I'll let you know."

"Alright," Goren said but Grace could hear the defeat in his voice. She handed him the file she was holding that had the summary of the pre-autopsy information in it. She knew it wasn't like handing him Nicole Wallace's location but she hoped, in the end, it would lead him to her. She watched as both detectives sullenly leave trace. Pulling on her latex gloves, she started the autopsy, hoping to find something to link Wallace to the killing.

Goren had left the office two hours after Eames. She had tried to get him to leave in her own gentle way but he had solemnly deflected all her attempts. He tried to concentrate on the cases of Kapirelli and Lewis but the last words from Wallace always found their way into his mind.

_You took away my last chance at a real life._

Deciding it was time to go since he was one of the last people still there, he shut the folder and slid it into his binder. He grabbed his coat and headed out of the bullpen. Maybe the walk home would prove to clear his mind somewhat but he highly doubted that. Some demons you just couldn't outrun. You had to conquer them. Nicole was one such demon.

Who was he to take away her chance at a "real life?" A real life, one with a spouse, children, home, was something he wanted as well. He knew what it felt like to want something like that and never be able to grab hold of that dream. He could hear her frustration at him in her voice when she left the message on his answering machine. And for all his frustration, anger and resentment at her, he could only feel pity for her because of her loss.

His cell phone rang, disrupting his thoughts. Checking the caller ID, he found it to be the ME's office. He flipped open the phone and held up to his ear.

"Detective Goren, it's Dr. Harris. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"No, not at all. What did you find?"

"The perfume came back with a generic ID on it. There's not specific name but the contents found in the perfume are only found in Thailand."

"Can you fax that report over to MCS?"

"It's already been faxed."

"Great. Thanks, Grace."

"You bet, uh..."

Goren smiled slightly as she floundered. "Bobby."

He heard her let out a short laugh. "Bobby, alright."

He hung up the phone and continued on his way home. Nicole still taunted him but at least he now had Grace's voice to drive away Nicole's. He had to admit it sounded nice to hear Grace call him Bobby.


	8. Five Steps Into the Dance

Sins of the Father

Chapter Eight: Five Steps Into the Dance

Grace headed into the throng of hungry homeless that filled the fellowship hall of the local Catholic Church. She had tracked her father to this new location through her sister Angela. And Angela only knew that their father was here because their paths crossed briefly, which always left Grace to pick up the pieces. She found her father, Charlie Harris, seated in the corner of the room, with no food in front of him.

She waited in line and filled one of the plastic plates with food, grabbed a glass of water and headed over the corner. Silently, she slid the plate in front of him and sat down. He turned very sorrowful blue eyes towards her and she draped an arm around his thin shoulders.

"Dad, I'm sorry for what I said earlier on this week. I know you loved mom. And you were right, knowing whether it was a suicide or murder doesn't matter. It won't bring her back."

"That's alright, Gracie. Don't worry about it, ok?"

"You need to eat."

He pushed the plate of food away. "I'm not hungry."

"Dad, you need to eat. Have you thought any more about rehab?"

He picked up his fork and pushed the mashed potatoes around the plate. "You know those places don't work for me."

"They would if you gave them a chance."

"Some people just can't be helped, Gracie. Don't worry about me."

Grace gave her dad a few pats on the back. "Dad, have you been using again?"

He gave her a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look. Grace sighed.

"Have you heard anything about anyone new on the street dealing coke and meth? A woman, perhaps?"

He shook his head. "No woman, but there was this French guy who showed up and started dealing some high-end coke. Too rich for me to buy but I've heard it's the best."

Grace leaned forward in her chair. "What's his name?"

"Don't know. He goes by the street name of Pere."

"Okay. Thanks, Dad. Thanksgiving is next week. I'll pick you up in the morning so be sure to call me to let me know where you are." Grace reached into her jacket pocket and handed him a quarter.

"Thanks, Gracie." He reached out and grabbed her arm. "I really mean that."

Grace reached down and hugged her Dad. "I'm always here for you Dad." She gave him a smile as she made her way out of the church and stepped outside into the cold air. She was just a few steps down the street when her cell phone rang.

"Dr. Harris," she answered.

"Grace, it's Bobby."

She noticed he sounded tired. "Hi, Bobby. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you were done with work for the day?"

Grace couldn't hide the smile that had crept across her face. "I just finished."

"I, uh, had kind of a rough day today and was, um, wondering if you wanted to meet me someplace."

"That sounds great. Are you ok though?"

"Yeah, just a little...weary. Where would you like to meet?"

Grace mentally went over the various places to go out on a date. Date? Yeah, this definitely was a date. "Do you like dancing?" She could have sworn she heard him choke. "Bobby, you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Dancing? That sounds wonderful. I know a great place."

"Ok then. Do you want to meet there?"

"Uh, no, I'll pick you up. If you want."

"Alright, just give me an hour and I'll be ready." Grace closed her phone and pulled out her keys to her apartment. She had one hour to go through her limited wardrobe and find something suitable, not only for a date but for dancing. She had been so caught up in her arrangements with Bobby that she never noticed the shadow that had followed her from the church.

Bobby almost didn't recognize the ME when he picked her up at her apartment. She had lost the jeans, sweater and sneakers for a knee length skirt and fitted blouse. She wore a pair of heels that brought her up to his chin and her hair was down in loose curls. Even after dinner, he still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that this was the woman who had slapped his wrist, smack him across the face and cried herself asleep in his arms. He had made a difference in her life. At least he believed he had; she had smiled more this evening than the entire time he had known her.

The dance club he had taken her to was found by chance. He had heard from a friend of a friend who heard from a dance studio that it's where the students came to practice. They played music that you could actually dance to and not just jump around on a dance floor to a heavy beat. In fact, by the time he had finally led her out on the floor, they were playing "Moon River."

"Have you ever waltzed?" he asked, sliding his arm around her ribcage.

She gave him an odd smile. "Yes, I have."

It only took five steps into the dance for him to understand that smile of hers. She followed him effortlessly around the floor. He tried not to invade her personal space and silently offered to keep space between them but Grace willingly closed the space and danced a true ballroom waltz. In fact, she was the first woman that he ever danced with that knew the genuine waltz.

"Where did you learn how to dance like this?"

Grace smiled slightly. "I learned in college. I took a ballroom dance class for a physical education credit towards my undergrad. I really enjoyed it so I continued to take classes afterwards. The class that I teach at the local community center is ballroom dancing."

"I never would have-"

"Pegged me as someone who danced?" she finished for him. "I know. No one believes me when I tell them. Where did you learn how to dance?"

It was Bobby's turn to smile. "In the army, believe it or not."

"I didn't realize that was part of basic training."

"It wasn't. I learned from doing, actually."

Grace nodded. "I see. Impressing the ladies while on leave?"

Bobby shrugged. "Something like that." The song ended and he reluctantly let her go. They found two seats at the bar and ordered drinks.

"So what did you do on your day off, Bobby?"

He took a sip of his drink before he answered. "I visited my mother today."

"Oh," was all she said.

"But then I had this really nice woman agree to go dancing with me. And she's a very good dancer."

"I'll have to meet this woman sometime."

They shared a laugh and finished their drinks in comfortable silence. Bobby left the tip on the bar and offered his hand to Grace again. "Shall we?"

"It's what I came to do."

"Well, don't you look happy." Alex Eames was surprised to see her partner saunter into the bullpen, a slight half smile on his face and a spring in his step. "You're not usually this happy on a Monday."

Goren shrugged and threw himself down into his chair, not quite hiding a very schoolboyish grin. "I had a good night last night."

Eames raised her eyebrows. "The ME?"

"How did you-"

"Woman's intuition." She handed him a legal pad of paper. "I made a list of who we should talk to concerning the Lewis murder."

Goren took the tablet and gave the list a quick glance. "Amy Whitefield? Wasn't she the roommate that you already talked to?"

"Yes, but she was very upset when I questioned her. I'm hoping now that she's calmed down some-"

"Goren! Eames!"

Both of them practically jumped out of their chairs. Captain Deakins was leaned outside his office doorway. The shout had actually quieted the bullpen considerably.

"My office, now," he finished more quietly. Eames gave Goren a concerned look, which he only mirrored. Rarely did their Captain loose his cool but even when he did it was not in front of everyone. They hurried into the office and Eames heard the door shut with an ominous click. Deakins was leaning on his desk, head down, jaw clenched. This did bode well.

"I need you both on a different case now."

Eames watched Goren who showed no reaction now. They were pulled from cases to be handed more important cases. Why did this feel so wrong?

"What kind of case is it?" Goren asked.

"A kidnapping."

Goren straightened slightly. Eames took notice and crossed her arms. "Who is it?"

"Have you ever heard of an assistant ME by the name of Dr. Grace Harris?"

Eames looked over at Goren. True to form he didn't display any shock or worry in his posture but his eyes told whole other story. She knew that look very well. He often had that look after there was a situation where she was in immediate danger. She really felt for him.

"Dr. Rodgers called me this morning," Deakins started to explain, "saying that Dr. Harris showed up at seven this morning, went out on a call to pick up a body at an abandoned warehouse and hasn't returned yet."

Eames looked at her watch. It was ten now. "How long does it usually take to pick up a body?"

Deakins looked down at the folder he had in his hands. "Rodgers said that the call was for a supposedly dead homeless man who had frozen to death last night. The pick up shouldn't have taken all but an hour, including getting through morning rush hour. Dr. Harris isn't answering her cell phone either."

"Where is this warehouse?" Goren spoke up for the first time.

"Upper East side. Here's the address. Rodgers said Harris is her best ME, no small compliment coming from Rodgers."

Eames reached for the folder from Deakins but was surprised when Goren reached past her and took it. He was almost out the door of Deakins' office before she realized what had happened. Quickly she followed him into the bullpen and found him shrugging into his coat. Silently, he tossed her the keys to their car. She didn't have to ask where they were going.

They found the warehouse but there was no sign of the Medical Examiner's SUV around anywhere. Goren was silently cursing himself the entire way to the warehouse. He should have known to leave Grace alone, especially when he had realized that Nicole Wallace was involved in the murders that Grace had uncovered. Wallace's words rang louder in his ears than ever.

_You took away my last chance at a real life._

He could practically hear her continue the sentence. _Now I am taking away yours._

"Bobby?"

He jumped slightly. Given the tone in Eames' voice she had probably been trying to get his attention. "What?"

"I asked if you were alright?"

"Yeah, fine. Why?"

"You just seem...mad about something."

He rubbed a hand over his face and kept it there. "I'm mad at myself."

"What in the world for?"

He didn't want to tell her that she was right about his attraction to Grace. He didn't want to run the risk of getting reassigned this case because he had an emotional attachment to the victim. He bit back a groan. Victim. What an awful word. And Grace had been a victim to her own demons that she didn't need to be a victim of a spiteful, psychotic woman who had it out for him. Eames was still waiting for him to answer.

"I don't know. There's the warehouse."

If she was frustrated with his answer, Eames didn't show it. She merely parked the car and headed for the nearest door of the warehouse, gun drawn. Most of the windows had been broken out, cracks appeared up and down the red brick. Goren drew his gun, though he highly doubted he would need it, and stepped into the warehouse first.

They spent the better part of an hour searching the abandoned building and came up with no sign that Grace had ever been there. They walked the perimeter of the building and that showed less than promising as well. Goren pulled out his phone and dialed Grace's number. If Grace had been there and dropped her phone then at least they would know she had made it to the warehouse.

Eames heard the faint ringing before Goren did. He followed on her heels out into a back alleyway. Underneath bags of garbage they found the ME's kit she always carried with her, her cell phone tucked neatly in an outside pocket. Goren pocketed his cell phone and Eames carefully picked up the ME kit. They had taken it back to the car to bag it when Grace's cell phone rang.

Goren pulled on a latex glove and picked up the phone. The number was blocked. He flipped it open and held it up to his ear.

"Hello, Bobby."

He forced himself to breathe normally and loosen his death grip on Grace's phone. After taking a couple steadying breaths before answer the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Where is she, Nicole?"

"Right here with me, where else would she be?"

Goren noticed Eames trying to get a tracer put together to hook up to the cell phone. He had to keep her talking but he also knew she was too smart for that.

"Let me talk to her, Nicole."

The accented voice sighed dramatically. "I can't do that, you should know better than that, Bobby. But you know what I discovered. All three of us have something in common."

"What's that?"

"The sins of our fathers." Then the line went dead.


	9. Hell Hath No Fury

Disclaimer: I don't own Law & Order: CI and I'm not making money off this.

Author's Note: I just want to send out a heartfelt thanks to all my reviewers. You guys rock and make writing worthwhile. I hope I continue to entertain. I'm sorry for the delay for Thanksgiving was really busy and I was out of town for five days. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter!

Sins of the Father

Chapter Nine: Hell Hath No Fury

Grace knew she was semi-conscious, caught in that place between dreams and life. She treasured those moments. Drugs, violence, and death couldn't touch her there. She could bend the laws of nature to fit her needs. The world around her gave her want she wanted, needed.

Her mother was still alive, always at home, waiting for her with a hug.

Her father worked a steady job and was home every night for dinner.

Her sister looked up and respected her. They went shopping together, stayed up late for movies and girl talk with popcorn and chocolate.

Then there was another person who made his way into her pseudo-dreams. Bobby was there, his fingers interlocked with hers. There was such a sense of safety in that touch.

"Grace?"

Her name was whispered, trying to coax her out of her dreams. She turned her head, trying to get away from the voice.

"Grace."

She tried to hold tight to Bobby but his fingers became unloosed from hers.

"Grace!"

Her eyes snapped open and the dream was shattered. The real world greeted her eyes. She was lying on a couch, staring up at a white ceiling. The room was warm and bright. The walls were painted and had a floral boarder across the top part of the walls that combined the colors of maroon, crème, mauve and green. It looked like a hotel room. Had she passed out? If so, why was she in a hotel room? The last thing she remembered was going into that warehouse to pick up a body.

"Good, you're awake," an accented feminine voice said from her left. Sitting up, Grace looked around the room and found her fellow occupant sitting at a small table. She looked a few years older than Grace herself, with brown-blonde hair and a round, open face. But her brown eyes told a different story. There was a cunning gleam, like a cat that had just cornered a mouse. She loved the confusion that Grace was feeling.

Grace squared her shoulders and pushed the confusion and fear to the back of her mind. Getting up from the couch, she walked over to the table and sat down across from the other woman, making sure she showed confidence with every movement. If she wanted to play mind games, Grace was more than up to the challenge.

"Nicole Wallace, I presume."

A slow smile crept across her face. "You've done your research. Bobby would be so proud. So," she reached for a cup of tea that was in front of her, "what do you know?"

Grace kept her back straight and folded her hands on the tabletop. "I know you served time in Thailand for murdering nine people with your French boyfriend. You murdered your own daughter when she was three and claimed she was swept out to sea."

"Ah," Nicole interrupted, "that's where you're wrong. She was swept out to sea."

Grace allowed herself a smug smile. "Nicole, I'm a ME. I know what a snapped neck and broken arm look like. This was no 'drowning.'"

"Not everything is what it seems, though."

"You, more than anyone else, should know that. I wouldn't look at you twice on the street but staring at you now, seeing your eyes, I see what you are."

Nicole laughed. "Even Robert Goren couldn't see what I am. He still doesn't."

"Then what am I doing here?"

She gave Grace that Cheshire Cat grin. "To show Robert Goren what I am."

"Ah," Grace nodded. "I see. You want to show him that you are not only a murderess but also a kidnapper now. That's sure to impress him."

"If he can't find you, it will impress him. He loved nothing more than a battle of wits."

"And I'm the prize in this little 'battle?'"

"Now you're catching on. Smart girl, I knew you would."

Grace looked out the window but found that there was nothing to look at. Just boarded up buildings and a narrow alley. There was no way to tell if she was still in New York. Now that Nicole was quiet, Grace had time to realize that her head hurt incredibly. She reached up and touched her scalp only to have spots of light momentarily blind her.

"Oh, yes," Nicole said, "I'm sorry about that nasty bump. It'll go away soon, I'm sure."

"So I have you to thank for the prank call to the morgue?"

Nicole just laughed but neither confirmed nor denied the accusation.

Grace opened her hands and laid them palm down on the table. "Do you want me to finish telling you what I know about you?"

"I don't think so. What you've said shows that Bobby kept you well informed about me."

Grace felt her mouth quirk. She was beginning to catch a glimpse into what exactly makes Nicole tick. It was interesting that it seemed to center around Bobby Goren. Whether it was a romantic obsession, psychological warfare or just "the one who got away" she couldn't tell yet. Perhaps it was a mix of all three.

"Perhaps," Nicole drawled, "you would like to know what I know about you."

Grace shook her head. "What you know about me doesn't matter. I could care less if you read all my medical files."

"Oh, but I have." Nicole gave her a triumphant grin. "Tell me, do you still keep in touch with Bobby's mother?"

The comment startled her. Despite her effort to hide it, she couldn't. And Nicole had caught it.

"Bobby doesn't know about your little stint in Carmel Ridge, does he? I'm wondering what his response would be if he happened to find out?"

Grace was going to call her bluff. "Why don't you call him and tell him then?"

Nicole just smiled sweetly and stood up, taking her teacup with her. "I think that's enough for today. You probably need your rest after such an unfortunate accident. Kidnapping can be very traumatic. I'll see you tomorrow then."

Grace watched Nicole walk out of the room. She heard at least six locks snap into place. Slowly, she stood up, still nursing a very bad headache. The room was set up much like a hotel room. There was a small dining area, where the table was, along with a sitting area. There was bedroom off to the right that had a bathroom connected to it. All the windows faced the boarded up buildings and narrow alleyway. Grace held a hand up to the windows but before her hand touched the glass she could feel the energy of an electric current running over the windows. The door had the same current around it with the six locks on the outside of the door.

There was nothing to be done at the moment. Nicole said she wouldn't be back till tomorrow. Her headache was preventing her from thinking clearly at the moment so devising an escape plan was out of the question for now. Sighing in frustration, she headed towards the bathroom to get a good look at her head wound.

It wasn't nearly as bad as it felt but she did have dried blood in her hair and down the side of her face. With some soap and water it was quickly taken care of but it did nothing to ease the pain. She headed towards the bed and crawled on top of the comforter. Pulling one of the pillows towards her, Grace rested her head on the softness and closed her eyes.

She wondered if Bobby would realize she was missing. She wondered if Rogers would realize she was missing. Over half the morgue didn't even know she existed and those who did usually chose to ignore her. She tried to return to that place between sleep and wakefulness, back to her family and Bobby, but they all remained out of reach. She wondered if anyone would take notice of her absence.

Bobby had tried to ignore the concerned looks of his partner all day. He knew she meant well; Alex had always meant well when it came to him. He had tried to reassure her that he was fine and that the important thing was finding Grace alive and whole. But she didn't believe him any more than he believed himself.

He looked over at his clock on the nightstand. Obnoxious red numbers told him it was 4:36 a.m. He still had four and half hours before he had to be back in the bullpen. He had gone over all the files he had for Nicole Wallace and found nothing that could be a possible lead as to why Grace was taken. The only lead he could come up with was that this was personal. His own words came back to haunt him.

_It has to be tit-for-tat then, Nicole._

And she was taking it to heart now. He took away her chance at being happy. She was taking away his chance at being happy. He didn't even know if his feelings went that deep for Grace. He had only known her, really known her, for three days. Granted, they had survived through similar events and nursed some of the same wounds. True, he had given her a solace for her pain but if he was honest with himself, she gave him the same solace as well. His cell phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts. Getting up from his bed, he picked it up from off the dresser. The number was blocked. One guess who this was.

"Goren."

"Hello, Bobby."

"Nicole, where's Grace?"

She sighed into the phone. "I've already told you, she's here with me. We had a nice little chat today, Bobby."

He sat back down on the bed. He knew better than to trace the call so he did the next best thing: he recorded it with a hand held recorder he had brought from work.

"So, what did you talk about with Grace?"

"She told me what she knew about me but denied that you told her anything."

"I didn't tell her anything. What's this have to do with her? Can I talk to her?"

"Of course not. We also talked about _her _though. I found out something very interesting that I think you should know."

Bobby bit back a sigh of frustration. "What exactly do I need to know?"

"Tell me something, Bobby, did your mother, in any of her delusions, speak of a redheaded angel that came to visit her?"

He almost dropped the phone. How did Nicole know about that? His mother had done nothing but talk about this "angel" that came to visit her every day for two months. That had to be at least eight years ago.

"Bobby?"

"Uh, yes, she uh, she did."

"Well, let me tell you who that 'angel' was."

"Grace?"

"Very good, Bobby. Grace was a resident at Carmel Ridge for two months, eight years ago."

"She was most likely a resident nurse, Nicole."

"No, Bobby, she was a patient. Go check the records at Carmel Ridge."

"Where is she, Nicole? Is she alive?"

"Go check the records, Bobby. Find out what kind of damaged goods you've placed your affection on."


	10. Angels and Demons

Disclaimer: I don't own Law and Order: CI, or any other Law and Order. Just having fun!

Sins of the Father

Chapter Ten: Angels and Demons

"Here it is," Alex Eames announced. After reading over the report she decided the outcome wasn't all that damaging. But one look at her partner's face proved to be a different story. She never remembered a time in their five year partnership when he looked so...worn.

"What, what does it say?"

She passed the folder over to him. "She was admitted to Carmel Ridge in '97 for severe clinical depression."

"She was referred by Dr. Elizabeth Rogers," Goren looked up from the file. "That means she must have been in her residency at the morgue. Rodgers said that she noticed cut marks on Grace's arms. The day she referred her, Grace had her right wrist bandaged with bloodied gauze."

"It said she was there for two months. Don't they usually keep depression patients for only one?"

He nodded and continued to read through the file. "Says here that the second day of her stay she tried to slit her wrists with a water glass. She broke it on the bathroom floor and used one of the shards."

"Policy was to keep her for an extra month."

"Her doctors noticed a positive change in her behavior by the end of the first month but they had to keep her one for next month despite the change."

Eames gave him a sidewise grin. "She probably was climbing the walls that second month."

"Maybe that's why she started…"

She waited for Goren to complete his thought but instead he slid the folder into his binder, snapped it shut and stood up.

"Let's head over to Grace's apartment and see if we can find anything there."

It felt odd to him, walking into her apartment, knowing she wasn't going to be there. His gaze immediately fell to the armchair against the back wall of the living room. The memory of that night hit him full force and took the air from his lungs. The way she had clung to him and sobbed showed she had placed her faith in him that night. And he had failed her.

"You okay, Bobby?"

He forced his lungs to work again and took a deep breath. "Yeah, fine."

There was a knock on the door and he turned to see Ed Green leaning halfway into the apartment.

"Hey, I haven't seen Grace for the past day-and-a-half. I know she works long hours sometimes but, seeing you two here, it doesn't look so good."

"You're Dr. Harris' neighbor?" Eames asked. Goren guessed he should have told her that but then he would have to explain how he came by that knowledge.

"Yeah," Green stepped through the door, "we've been living across the hall from each other for the past four years."

Goren looked over at Eames, who merely shrugged her shoulders. Green was a fellow detective, and a good one at that. He had helped them with the spiked pills that one time. He could be trusted with the information that they had.

"We think she may have been kidnapped."

Green didn't look all that surprised. "Found something in an autopsy she wasn't supposed to?"

Goren nodded his head.

"You always keep close tabs on your neighbors, Detective Green?" Eames asked.

"I look out for Grace. She's tough but not invincible."

"What, what do you mean?" Goren asked, wondering if Green had caught him hanging around.

"About a year ago I was coming home from the precinct and I hear shouting coming from Grace's apartment. First time I'd ever heard any kind of noise from her place. I heard a couple things get smashed so I knock on the door. Grace came to the door but didn't open it, said everything was fine. I said ok and stepped back to listen some more.

"Well, the shouting kept going, more things got broke so I broke down the door. This guy, I didn't recognize him, had her up against the wall with his hand wrapped around her throat. Soon as he saw me he took off. I tried to keep up with him but someone picked him up right outside the apartment building. Grace never did tell me who he was. I came back upstairs, she was cleaning up the mess, like nothing had ever happened. Thanked me for helping her out and that was that."

"You never saw him again?" Eames asked.

"Nope. Never heard any noise like that again. She had a shiner and black and blue marks on her neck. Walked with a limp for a week too. I offered to take her to the ER but she just brushed me off. I did talk to her Uncle, who runs the bar across the street. Said it was most likely her ex."

Goren was jotting down the story in shorthand. "Ex-boyfriend?"

Green gave him a curious look. Obviously Green had seen him coming and going from Grace's apartment and wasn't sure if he should reveal this part of Grace to him. With a sigh, he did.

"Ex-husband," Green put his hands in his pockets and look around the apartment. "If I can help in anyway, let me know. Grace is very...special."

The one word was spoken with such reverence that Goren put his pen down and closed the binder. Even Eames had dropped her professional air out of respect for the emotion in Green's voice.

"When I got shot last year, it was two weeks after I kicked down her door. Van Buren got a call from Grace, asking if she could be put on the vigil list while I was in ICU. She told Grace that you had to be an officer to be able to sign the list but if she wanted to visit me, she could. Grace wouldn't have it. She told Van Buren that she had a badge, a ME's badge, and if she could just borrow a gun for the night could she do it. She didn't have the heart to tell Grace no so she set her up to sit with Lennie Briscoe that night and Grace did. Lennie came a total of four times I was told and Grace was with him each time."

"We'll call you as soon as we find out something," Eames assured him. Green nodded and quietly left the apartment. "She had more heart to her than I thought."

Goren nodded, trying to picture the veteran cop Briscoe and the youthful looking ME taking up guard positions outside Green's ICU room. "She has a lot of heart in her, she's just been beating it back for so many years."

"Bobby, I don't normally pry into your personal life, but-"

"Yes, I took her out Sunday night," he finished for her. She looked at him with a mix of happiness and concern.

"You care about her."

He couldn't tell if what she said was a statement or a question so he didn't answer. She understood his silence.

"We'll find her, Bobby."

She was not going to let Nicole think that she was scared. So, here she sat, at the table where she first saw the blond haired woman. Grace slept for a handful of hours, showered and watched the path of the full moon across the sky. As the moon disappeared, the sun started making it's way up and over the abandoned warehouses. She heard the locks at the door and leaned back in the chair, propping her head up on her hand.

"Ah, good, you're up." Nicole waltzed into the room, a bag in her hand and two Starbucks cups, grande from the size of them. "I thought you might be hungry."

"I was wondering if you were going to feed me."

"And you showered too. Making yourself right at home then?"

"Trying to. Electrified windows and ten bolts on the front door doesn't really make me feel at home." Grace faked a look of thoughtfulness. "However, I do live in New York City so this should feel more like home."

Nicole laughed. "A sense of humor, finally. I figured you'd have to have one."

Grace reached into the bag and pulled a bagel out. She was starving but tried to hide her shaking hands as she spread the cream cheese. "So, did you call Bobby last night and tell him all about my stint in Carmel Ridge?"

"Yes, I did, as a matter of fact." Nicole sat down across from her and put one of the coffees in front of her. "He was, how should I say, slightly disturbed when I told him about your befriending his mother."

Despite her hunger, Grace stopped the bagel halfway to her mouth. "His mother?"

"Yes, a woman by the name of Francis Goren, don't you remember?"

She did remember. Very well, in fact. She never found out Fran's last name so connecting her with Bobby was impossible. Her red-haired angel.

"That's right," Nicole cooed. "So you do remember her?"

Grace didn't realize she had spoken the name out loud. "I didn't know her last name." Grace took a bite of her bagel but all pleasure had been taken out of it now. "Why am I here?"

"To tell you the truth about Bobby."

Grace took a sip of the coffee. "You could have called me, much like you're doing to Bobby right now. Why did you have to abduct me?"

Nicole gave her a very cunning look. "You are very smart. And unafraid." She cocked her head to the side slightly. "Or you're just very good at hiding it. Either way, you're right. There is another reason you're here. But after we eat. Besides, I want to know if Bobby ever mentioned a woman by the name of Valerie Wagner?"

Grace threw her hands up in the air. "Ex-girlfriend? Ex-wife? I really don't care, Nicole."

"You don't care that Bobby had a child?"

Grace's first reaction was utter shock but she realized who was talking. "He doesn't have a child."

"Not anymore, he doesn't. Valerie Wagner was Bobby's girlfriend in college. She became pregnant, and one of her well-meaning friends happened to tell her about Bobby's mother. Darling girl had an abortion and told Bobby after the fact. Poor Bobby was crushed."

If it were any other time, any other place, Grace would have allowed herself to be moved. She couldn't imagine a person being so naïve as to believe that schizophrenia could be passed down through genes. True, those who have the illness in their family are more prone to suffer from it but there was no scientific fact that it was related to genes. What she knew of Bobby, "crushed" must have been the understatement of the year.

"Why do you look so sad, Grace?"

"How do you gain pleasure from other people's pain? Are you really that sick of a person?"

"You know all about being sick, don't you?"

"It's called depression, Nicole. It's a far cry from depravity."

"There's that intelligence again."

"I don't know what you thought you would gain by telling Bobby and me all our dark little secrets to each other. Is it a control thing, Nicole? Or are you just so obsessed with Bobby that anyone else that steps into his world you see as a threat?"

"I'm just trying to stop a heartache before it happens. Bobby's not as stable as he leads people to believe. He always walks the fine line of genius and insanity. He'll step over that line one day."

"I'll worry about that when it happens. What I am doing here, Nicole?"

"Down to business it is then. My boyfriend and I have a slight problem. We had three people that were suppose to bring us some business products. Unfortunately, all three were unable to make their deliveries. That's where you come in."

Grace groaned. "Let me guess, you and your boyfriend are running drugs. Three people who were bringing them in their stomachs died of overdoses and you want me to retrieve the rest of the drugs that are still in the stomachs of these people."

Surprise actually crossed Nicole's face. "How did you deduce that from what I said?"

"Why else would you need an ME?"

A slow smile crept across her face. "Brilliant."


	11. Lost and Found

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Law and Orders. If I did…well, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction. Just having fun, hope you are too.

Sins of the Father

Chapter Eleven: Lost and Found

Grace had been provided with scrubs and medical equipment. Nicole had overseen everything, including the autopsies. Well, partial autopsies. Grace was on the second body, having pulled three bags of cocaine from the first body, and two from the second. These people she was cutting open looked so young.

She wondered where Angela was suddenly. The middle sister in the group of three was known for her outrageous behavior, so much like their mother, using prostitution to fuel her drug habit. If Grace couldn't reach her soon then Angela would end up like one of these poor souls. She pulled another bag out of the second victim. Who was going to grieve over them? Another older sibling? A parent, perhaps?

"Two down, one more to go," Nicole spoke up from behind Grace.

"So the blood, guts and gore doesn't bother you too much, does it Nicole?"

"Why should it?" she shrugged. "If I'm as depraved as you put it, why should it bother me?"

Grace wiped her forehead with the sleeve of her scrubs. "I guess I like to see the good in people."

"Tell me, do you see good in me?"

Grace turned to see if Nicole was mocking her but what she found in those light brown eyes was genuine curiosity. It was odd to say the least. Grace shook her head. "No."

Nicole's face look crestfallen for about a second before returning to its natural mask of condescension. "Just one more and then you're free to go."

"Right." Grace turned from her captor and realized the implication of her words. Once the coke had been removed from the third body her usefulness was done. Nicole had tormented Bobby with Grace's dark secrets and now she had used her skills for Nicole's purpose of getting back a couple thousand or more worth of white powder. So this was how her life was going to end. What a sad existence.

"Nicole, how much longer?"

Grace chanced a glance over her shoulder to see a tall, dark haired man making his way towards the makeshift morgue. He was dressed in a very nice dark suit and dress shirt and spoke with a French accent. She recognized him from the newspaper picture from the Thai paper. So this was the boyfriend.

"She's on her last body, darling."

"There's a swat team on their way. Those detectives found the warehouse."

Grace sucked in a breath of air and quickly released it. Unfortunately, Nicole had heard her.

"Oh don't worry, Grace, it's not Bobby. Don't get your hopes up."

"They'll be here within a half hour."

"We'll be done by then," Nicole said smoothly, "Won't we, Gracie?"

Something inside of Grace snapped and only red filled her vision. Every muscle in her body tightened like metal coils of a spring. Only her father was allowed to call her by that name. That had become her endearment to him and she allowed him the freedom to call her by her childhood name. No one else reserved that right.

But there was nothing Grace could do. Sure, she could try to attack Nicole with the scapula she held but not with the boyfriend standing there. She was a doctor, not a fighter and both Nicole and her boyfriend came across as fighters. No, she would have to wait, plan and attack swiftly.

She pulled one bag out of the stomach of the last victim. As she pulled the second, she purposefully caught it on the tip of the scalpel, letting a small stream of coke fall into the open cavern of the stomach before placing the bag in the surgical tray with the rest.

"That's it," Grace tightened her grip on the scalpel. "I'm done." She turned to see if the boyfriend had left only to see the lead pipe coming towards her face the second before it connected and turned everything black.

Detectives Mike Logan and Carolyn Barek had been tracking this drug ring since Sophie Kapirelli's body had been found. Deakins had handed the case of the killer to Goren and Eames, but the drug dealing was handed to Logan and Barek. Now, with a complete swat team behind them, they moved through the abandoned warehouse with no luck of drugs, dealers or customers. That is, until they came to a door that had six locks on it.

Logan motioned for the swat team to break it down and within two seconds it was splintered wood. Five seconds later it was declared clear and he stepped into the room. It was set up to look like a hotel room.

"Windows have an electric current running over them," Barek said.

"A holding cell?" He looked around the room again. "What do drug dealers need a holding cell for?"

"Especially one that looks like this?"

"Logan, Barek," the head of the swat team stepped into the room, "three bodies have been found in another room down the hall. All three have their stomachs cut open."

"Drugs," Barek stated.

"Looks that way. We're bagging the bodies. The incisions that were made, they look really clean, like a doctor made them."

Barek straightened her back and looked over at her partner. "The ME that's gone missing."

"Any of those bodies a red-head?" Logan asked.

"No, all three were male."

It was two in the afternoon and Bobby Goren felt like he had personally hit every dead end in Grace's case head on at eight miles an hour. His hopes of finding her alive were dwindling. Unless Nicole was holding her for her surgical abilities, the Aussie would just kill her outright whenever she had served her purpose.

"Ok, thanks." Eames hung up her phone and he looked over at her hopefully. He knew it was Barek on the other end filling her in on what they found at the warehouse. Eames just shook her head, a disappointed look on her face. "You're coming in tomorrow?"

He nodded his head.

Eames leaned across her desk and lowered her voice. "You know you can come to my parents for dinner, Bobby. You shouldn't spend Thanksgiving day here."

"I'm fine."

She didn't look convinced but realized a losing battle when she saw one.

"But," he started, "thank you, anyway."

She gave him a slight smile. "You know where I'll be if you change your mind."

His cell phone rang and before he could open it Eames had made her way over to his side of the desk. The number was blocked. He held the phone out from his ear somewhat so Eames could hear as well.

"Hello, Nicole."

"Hello, Bobby. I'm kind of rushed right now but I wanted to let you know that Grace has returned to work today."

"What does that mean?"

"You're an intelligent boy, I'm sure you'll figure it out. Till next time."

He shut the phone and laid it on his desk. Then her words made sense and his stomach dropped. No, she couldn't mean what he thought she did. But it was a very Nicole Wallace thing to do. He covered his face with his hands and fought back the fear and tears that had worked their way to his face. Eames didn't need him to tell her what Nicole's words had meant. He heard her dialing from his phone and asking to speak with Dr. Rodgers. A few minutes later she hung up the phone.

"Bobby, no bodies had been brought in that resembled Grace. Rodgers is gathering everyone and they're starting from the roof down to the crypt."

"She's dead, Alex. You really think Nicole is going to let her live?" He saw the hope flicker in her eyes which only seemed to amplify his despair. He stood up and grabbed his coat.

"Where are you going, Bobby?"

"To the morgue." He knew she would follow him. She would probably drive as well. He didn't want to see Grace in death. But he had to, to believe that she had been killed. He needed to apologize, even if it was to her corpse.

An ambulance had been stationed at the front doors, lights flashing. Rodgers met them at the lobby doors, pale but determined.

"We haven't found anything yet," she greeted. "I was just heading down stairs to check the lockers. It's where we put bodies after an autopsy has been performed."

Eames followed Rodgers into the elevator, watching Goren's shadow follow her. He had been very quiet from the bullpen to the car to the morgue. She felt for him - she really did. The battle between Wallace and her partner had always just involved those two. Now Nicole had broken the rules of war and brought an innocent victim into the fray, possibly even killing her. But she had to keep hope alive, if not for herself than for Bobby. But one look at the hunched frame of her partner told her he was inconsolable at the moment. The elevator dinged cheerfully and the doors opened.

A whoosh of cool air hit Eames in the face as they stepped off the elevator and into a sterile looking room. One wall was lined with metal boxes with handles. Rodgers grabbed the first handle in the upper left hand corner of the wall and pulled it open like a filing cabinet drawer. A body, pale and lifeless, lay on the slab of metal, waiting to be claimed by a loved one or funeral home. It wasn't Grace.

Eames went to the opposite side of the room and started from the right hand corner of the wall. Goren started from the middle of the wall. Every drawer that Eames opened she held her breath, waiting to see those red-gold curls, but they never came. She finished the first row and started on the second. Nothing. She has just started on the third when Goren let out a sound that was a cross between a gasp and a sob.

He was on his knees, a hand covering his mouth as he gazed down at a severely beaten body. Eames saw those red curls and forced her feet to move over towards the drawer. Rodgers fled the room, shouting for the paramedics. Eames knelt down on the other side of the drawer, looking at the body.

Grace's face had been beaten severely, the nose broken, two black eyes, split lip and dried blood from seeping head wounds. She was still dressed in a long sleeved t-shirt and jeans but it was obvious she had many broken bones. Blood had soaked through spots in her shirt and the colored portions of her jeans.

Then Eames saw it. A very slight rise and fall of the chest. At first she thought her mind was playing a trick but she saw it again. She laid two fingers on the side of the bruised neck and caught a thready pulse.

"Bobby, she's still alive."

She had never seen him move so fast. He had taken off his large overcoat and laid it over Grace's broken body, which swallowed her up. With great care she had seen on many occasions, he slid his hands underneath her back and knees and slowly stood up, bringing Grace with him. By that time the paramedics had arrived and Bobby just laid her reverently on the stretcher. Eames watched as they strapped her down, handing Bobby his coat back. They were on their radios ordering IVs and other supplies to be prepared for their arrival up stairs.

Eames noticed Bobby just watched them with a strange detachment from the entire ordeal. She noticed from watching the folds in the fabric of his coat that he kept clenching his hands and then relaxing them. She was used to his metal journeys into his mind when they were solving a case but this was different. Usually his eyes couldn't stay still, roving over the room, ceiling and floor, searching for answers. Now, they remained facing the door but they were unfocused, empty.

"Bobby?" she gently laid a hand on his arm. No response. She shook him slightly, saying his name with more authority. "Bobby."

Every muscle in his body jumped. He snapped out of his trance in an instant. His brow furrowed and she could see he was desperately trying to grasp his ability to speak once more but all that came out was "Alive."

Alex Eames prided herself on her emotional strength. She was a tough cop and an equally tough woman. But the look in her partner's eyes moved her to tears. He looked like someone had just handed him the one thing he desired most in this world. And he allowed her to see something that she had never seen in the entire five years she had known him. He cried.


	12. Friends and Family

Disclaimer: I don't own Law and Order: CI, or Law and Order. Not making money just having fun.

Authors Note: Thank you thank you thank you for your reviews! You guys rock! I have a couple more chapters left for this story so I hope you guys stick with it. I can't thank you enough for all your reviews and comments! Thank you!

Sins of the Father

Chapter Twelve: Family and Friends

_One Week Later_

She was in pain. That was the first coherent thought that came to Grace's mind. Her entire body was hurting, right down to her teeth. The last thing she remembered was that lead pipe hitting her across the face and hearing Nicole scream something like "What do you think you're doing!" Oh, that pipe. She ran her tongue over her teeth and took into account that she was very lucky she still had all of them. Now, if she could just do something about this hurting.

"Hey Ed, maybe you should get the nurse," a rough voice came from her right. It was strangely familiar but she couldn't place it just yet. If only she could get her eyes to work.

"Grace?" There was that voice again. She tried to turn towards it but the movement made her dizzy. Why wouldn't her eyes open? Slivers a light finally made their way into her pupils and her eyelids started to blink. She tried to breathe a sigh of relief but found her chest hurt too much.

"There you are," the lined face of Lennie Briscoe stared down at her. She tried to form his name but couldn't quite manage. He seemed to understand and held up a hand for her to stop trying.

"It's ok. You're safe now," he reassured. "Ed went to get a nurse. You're in Bellevue Hospital."

She could hear the heart monitor and breathing machine. Considering all the equipment that was surrounding her she must be in ICU. She had hoped to see Bobby there, or at least Alex Eames. But looking up at Lennie's grandfatherly face where concern and relief were clearly written brought a comfort to her anyway.

"Hey, look who's up!" Ed Green wandered into her vision, grinning broadly. "You've been teasing us for the past two days with little eye flutters and groans. Finally decided to give in, huh?"

She tried to smile but just like her eyelids, the muscles refused to work the first two times. Finally it must have because both men chuckled.

Ed carefully laid a hand on her foot, the only part of her body that didn't hurt at the moment. "I also called Robert Goren, and let him know you woke up. He's on his way down now."

"Now?' Lennie asked. "It's two o'clock in the morning."

Ed sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "He didn't sound like he was sleeping."

Lennie laid a hand on her wrist but she didn't feel the contact. Glancing down she found her wrist was in a cast. Actually, from her knuckles to her elbow was in a cast. "You should know that Goren and Eames have been taking up residence here for the past week. It wasn't until yesterday that they finally relented to having us stay with you the night."

Ed gave her a slight grin. "I think you're the only ME to ever get a 24 hour police vigil. A lot of people in the NYPD have a lot of respect for you."

They did? Grace tried to think of a time she had done anything outstanding and she couldn't come up with anything. She always did her job to the best of her ability, giving thorough autopsies and just doing whatever the detectives that came her way told her. Sure, she had run tox screens and reports to some people's homes or faxed over her results to precincts in the wee small hours of the morning, but that was nothing big.

"You know," Lennie spoke up, "We talked to just about every detective that walked in here and added up the cases that you had helped them with. I remember you helped Ed and me with twenty-six. Then when Fontana came on as his partner, you did eleven. You've helped Stabler and Benson from SVU with seventeen. Then there was Munch and Fin, who had fifteen with you. And Lieutenant Van Buren remembers you working with nine pairs of other detectives, averaging twelve cases each. That's a total of 177 cases that you helped solve."

She hadn't known it was that many cases. She wished her mouth would work. She would tell them it was the detectives who did the solving. She just found the clues. She merely handed them the pieces and they put it together.

"Oh, before I forget," Ed said, "Your Dad came looking for you last Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, and I told him what happened to you."

Her Dad. She wanted to know if he was alright. Did have something to eat on Thanksgiving? Was he alone? Ed must have noticed her distress.

"He actually had dinner with me and my mom that Friday night. We just heated up leftovers from Thanksgiving dinner and shared them with him. Then I brought him over to visit you. He's fine. He's," Ed had a wide grin that spread across his face, "he's in rehab right now."

Grace felt like ripping the IV out of her arm and dancing around the room. However, breathing had begun to hurt again so she settled for the biggest smile she could manage. She hoped he stuck with it this time. Maybe that's what it took, almost losing your daughter to make you realize the way you should live life. She wished she could have hugged the both of them. They deserved it.

A third face appeared between Ed's and Lennie's. Bobby had slipped in without either of the other two men taking notice until Grace saw him. He looked so tired, like he hadn't slept in weeks. There was a distress in his eyes, most likely over her, but it was mixed with relief.

"How long has she been awake?" he asked, not looking away from her. She figured he probably knew she couldn't talk just yet. Well, it wasn't going to stop her from trying.

"Right...here," she managed to get out.

All three men seemed to take a step back from the hospital bed. Grace grinned in triumph. Ed turned to Bobby.

"You really can get people to talk."

Bobby clasped his hands behind his back and tried to give an innocent look to Grace. "I'm sorry, how long have you been awake?"

Grace's smile faded somewhat. She didn't know.

"About twenty minutes, now," Ed chimed in.

Lennie looked over at Ed. "We should get back to our vigil now since Goren's here." Then he turned to Bobby. "Is Eames coming?"

"Later on this morning she'll be here."

"Well, let the visiting hours begin then," Ed clapped Bobby on the shoulder once before leaving the room and taking up his post at the door with his retired partner. Grace watched them leave her vision only to be replaced with a female doctor.

"Good morning, Dr. Harris," she greeted with a tired cheerfulness. "How do you feel?"

"Hurts," was all she managed. She figured the doctor would gather what she needed from that. She needed to save her words and strength for Bobby. She had to know what Nicole had told him. If full explanations were given for her time in Carmel Ridge, her relationship with his mother, even though she didn't know who Fran was at the time. He needed to understand. She needed him to understand.

The doctor check over her vitals. "Your pulse seems stronger than I've seen it, that's a very good sign. Heart rate is good. Maybe by tomorrow we can take you off the respirator." She turned a small knob on the morphine drip. "I'm upping your morphine just one notch so that pain should lessen in a few minutes, ok?"

Grace nodded slightly. The doctor gave a brief nod in Bobby's direction before leaving the room. Bobby had pulled a chair over near the foot of the bed so she wouldn't have to turn her head to look him. Once again, his weariness struck her to the core. She didn't remember him looking this...lost.

"You look bad," she whispered.

He smiled slightly. "I'll get you a mirror and then we can compare."

She tried to laugh for him, let him know she was fine, but all that came out was an "hm." But she had to know the physical damage before the emotional damage. "How bad is it?"

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Truth," she prompted.

"Alright. You have a broken nose, collarbone, arm, wrist, hand, nearly all your ribs, cracked pelvis, knee cap and a broken ankle."

"Wow."

"Not to mention massive head trauma, bruised heart and a punctured lung."

"I should be dead." The words escape her lips before she could stop them. The despair that became evident in Bobby's face brought tears to her eyes. She was amazed to see his dark orbs shimmer as well.

"I thought you were." It only took him a couple blinks and a cough to dispel the emotion that had gathered. "The doctors think you'll make a full recovery. With some physical therapy on your knee, of course."

"Are you ok?"

He gave her a startled, deer-caught-in-the-headlights look. "Yeah, I'm fine. Nicole Wallace got away, but" he shrugged, "that's getting to be expected now."

Grace shook her head slightly. "Not what I meant. Inside, are you ok?"

He dropped his head and stared at the floor. Grace tried to force her body to sit up more, get closer to him, but all her muscles and broken bones refused. She must have let out a frustrated noise because his head raised and he looked at her again. She felt his fingers on the tips of her fingers and he smiled half-way.

"I'm doing better now."

Alex Eames decided that since her partner had most likely spent the past five hours sitting a most uncomfortable chair, watching over a wounded woman hocked up on morphine, he would appreciate a cup of coffee. A very bad cup of coffee at that, but still, coffee was coffee, right? She took of sip of hers and pulled a face. Too bad Starbucks didn't open for another hour.

She looked around for the sugar and found that two girls seated at a nearby table had swiped it for themselves. She started over to the table when the conversation reached her ears. She played around with the pink and blue packets of sweeteners and eavesdropped for a couple minutes.

"Can't believe she almost died," the youngest was saying. She looked no more twenty-two and had reddish-brown hair tucked up under a golfer's cap. She had a cute face despite the pinched concern and circles under the eyes.

"She did, Sarah. What do you think cardiac arrest is? She died three times." The older one had a much older face, hard lines already worn into it. She had a more brown colored hair that was pulled back into a messy ponytail.

The younger one, Sarah, nibbled on her thumbnail. "What would we do without Grace?"

Eames stopped messing with the sweeteners and listened more closely.

"We'd be just fine without Grace. Come on, Sarah. Like we needed her before."

"Of course we needed her before, Angela." Sarah's voice rose with indignant anger. "Grace raised us. She worked two jobs back to back and still managed to get her GED by eighteen."

"I didn't need to be raised. You did."

Sarah huffed. "You needed an authority figure and Grace tried her best to make sure it wasn't the police. She worried over you constantly."

"Well, that's what she does best. Praise the good one, worry about the bad one. Look, she's awake now, she's going to live. I'm out of here."

"Angela, she's going to need help getting back on her feet again. She needs us now."

Angela stood up and grabbed a worn looking fabric bag. "Yeah, I'll hold my breath waiting for that call. Say hi to Jon, Andy and Em for me, ok?"

Eames watched the older of the two leave the cafeteria before turning in the direction of the table that still had Sarah seated at it. She noticed that Sarah was crying and wasn't sure if she should disturb her. Bobby had told her that Grace had two sisters, but he didn't know their names. This was the first she had seen them.

"Excuse me," she politely leaned over the railing dividing the condiment bar from the tables and chairs, "I was just wondering if you were done with the sugar?"

Sarah sniffed and swiped at her eyes. "Oh, sure, sorry about that. I didn't realize you were standing there."

"That's ok," Alex took the offered sugar and dumped some into both the coffee cups. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," but the word came out smothered with misery. "It's just my older sister can be such a pain."

"Tell me about it." Alex gave her a small smile and sat down in the chair that Angela had vacated. If Sarah minded, she didn't tell Alex. "Do you have a parent in the hospital?"

Sarah shook her head, some fly away strands that had escaped the hat drifting slightly around her face. "No, it's my oldest sister."

"Grace Harris?"

Sarah's eyes went wide. "You know her?"

Alex nodded. "I was there when my partner found her in the morgue."

"They said she looked worse before I saw her."

"She looked pretty bad."

Sarah swiped at her eyes again. "Is your partner's name Bobby, by any chance?"

"Yes, it is."

Sarah let out a little laugh. "I thought so. I called her two Sundays ago, to see if she wanted to go to the movies with me but she said she had a date. That this guy, Bobby, had asked her out. She was really excited about it."

"She was?" Alex wondered if she should be recording this for Bobby to hear.

"Oh yes," Sarah continue. "I knew that Grace had dated off and on since her divorce but she never was excited about it, really excited, like she was that night."

She knew it was none of her business but she had to ask. "Why did she get divorced?"

A look of bitterness came across Sarah's little girl face. "She married this guy right out of college. She wanted so bad to give Angela and me a nice place to live. And he agreed to let us move in with them. But he was one of those men who required three things out of a wife: cook, clean and," Sarah's face flushed, "'put out' I believe is how he phrased it. The marriage lasted a year and then he left. She got divorce papers on Christmas Eve."

"Merry Christmas."

Sarah brightened. "Actually, it was. Sure, Grace was upset but it was a relief with him gone. She didn't have a standard to live up to anymore. It freed her, in a way."

"In a way?"

"Well, the divorce brought on depression, it was much worse than we thought."

"That was when she went to Carmel Ridge?"

Sarah nodded her head. "When she got out, she was a totally different person, in a good way. But then I heard her voice that Sunday night. I knew."

"You knew what?"

Sarah's eyes started to fill up again with tears. "I knew that Grace had finally found her happiness."


	13. Recovery

Disclaimer: I don't own Law and Order: CI, and I'm not making money off this story.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the lack of updates. I had great difficulty with this chapter. This is the fourth revision. I also had a friend of the family pass away suddenly so I just didn't feel like writing. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. Enjoy!

Sins of the Father

Chapter Thirteen: Recovery

Bobby turned another page in the book he was reading and caught a quick glance at his watch. It was almost ten p.m. and Grace had been in and out of sleep for the past two hours. He was hoping she would stay asleep for the entire night but that was highly doubtful. She had been moved out of ICU two days ago and had already started her physical therapy. The doctors all thought she was making extraordinary progress, but every time he looked her he could see that her emotional wounds were still very raw.

She hadn't told him everything that Nicole had said, he knew that from the guarded look in those green eyes. It touched him that she was careful about what she repeated of the conversations with Nicole but he desperately wanted to know everything that was said. Maybe what she needed to heal those wounds was found in the conversations that she hadn't revealed to him yet.

"Bobby?"

He shut his book leaned towards the hospital bed. Grace's eyes were still closed so he wasn't sure if she was really awake or just talking in her sleep. "Yeah?"

She turned her head with more ease than she had in previous weeks and opened her eyes. "You're still here?"

"It's only ten."

She gave him a slight smile and closed her eyes again. "You should be out dancing."

"I can't. My dancing partner is in the hospital."

Grace opened her eyes again. "What room? I'll stop by and visit her."

"Very funny."

"Well, I'm sorry I'm not as entertaining as when they had me on the morphine drip. You're back to my regular wit now."

Bobby laughed. "Yeah, I miss hearing your rendition of the score to _Les Miserables_."

She gave him a half-hearted glare. "You would think they would keep me on the morphine drip when I started therapy."

His good humor dropped. "Is your knee hurting?"

Grace shrugged and shifted in the bed. "I'm alright."

"Here," he stood up and grabbed a pillow from the vacant bed in the room. Grace figured out what he was going to do and lifted the blanket and her knee as best she could. He slid the pillow under her braced knee and was pleased to see she had a more relaxed look on her face.

"Thanks. It feels much better."

"You're a terrible liar."

Grace sighed and leaned back against her pillows. "You look tired."

"I've gone on less sleep."

"For this long? You've been here every night for the past three weeks."

It was true what she said. He was used to pulling all nighters but only for a couple days at a time. Three weeks of napping in a hospital and catching a couple hours of sleep at home didn't really amount to much sleep. He must look worse than he thought but he gave her his best smile. "I'm fine."

She looked at him with complete disbelief but didn't say anymore on the matter. Instead, she wrapped a finger around one of her loose curls and tugged on it a couple times. He had watched her do this a couple times before and the action only meant she was about to broach the subject of Nicole Wallace again. He sat back in the chair and waited her to start the conversation. What she said, however, almost knocked him out of his chair.

"Who was Valerie Wagner?"

He felt the color temporarily drain from his face. He was shifting in his chair like a fidgety four year old. "Uh, did, uh, did Nicole tell...tell you about her?"

Grace took one look at him and he saw that this was the source of her pain. She was afraid of the hurt it would cause him, not the hurt it caused her. He wondered how many other secrets she held onto, too afraid to tell anyone for the hurt it would cause. How many stripes were on her heart for the sake of other's well-being?

Perhaps that was why she appeared so anti-social. The less people you know, the fewer secrets they reveal. In that moment, that silent acknowledgement that Nicole had told her about Valerie Wagner, he knew. The care, concern he had given her, had been returned tenfold in that one look. He got up from the chair and carefully sat on the edge of the bed. Grace continued to tug on her hair and watch the blanket. He reached out and took her good hand in his, gently pulling the strand of hair out of her grasp.

"What did she tell you about Valerie?"

He felt her fingers close tightly around his before she started speaking. "She said that Valerie was your college girlfriend."

"And?"

Grace's jaw tensed under the faded bruises and freckles. "She said, uh, that she had an abortion without your knowledge."

He was surprised at the sting those words still brought with them. It had happened over twenty years ago but it still hurt to think about. Valerie had been a very nice girl, one he could have actually seen himself marrying. Apparently she had different thoughts. She had been worried about how his father's abandonment had affected his view of relationships. He figured that was just what he got for dating a psychology major. Then, she had found out about his mother. She had given him three strikes before she left him. Strike one: his feelings for his father. Strike two: the unplanned pregnancy. Strike three: his mother's illness. He had forgiven her for the hurt she caused but he couldn't forget. He would never forget.

Something wet hit the back of his hand and he looked up at Grace. She wasn't crying, at least not yet. He didn't notice that she had removed her hand from his until he felt her cool fingers against his cheek. He felt her thumb slide across the skin and could only assume she had wiped away another tear. He swallowed convulsively, trying desperately to regain his composure.

"I'm so sorry, Bobby. I didn't want to tell you. I didn't think-"

He grabbed her hand and held it against his face. "I know. It's okay." He forced himself to swallow again. "I'm okay." Before his mind could process what he was doing, he turned his head and placed his lips in the palm of her hand. Her hand twitched somewhat under the pressure and he pulled back. He was surprised to see Grace grinning sheepishly.

"It tickled."

It was his turn to smile sheepishly. "Sorry."

Grace laughed. "Don't be. Are you sure you're alright?"

He looked down at their hands, fingers entwined and Grace's hand was practically swallowed up by the size of his own hand. But it seemed to fit just right. They seemed to fit just right. He wiped away the remaining tears from his eyes and gave her a content smile.

"I'm sure."

Grace leaned back against the cushion of the booth and used the extra space to prop her leg up. When she had told her Uncle that the hospital was going to release her on New Years Eve, he had set aside the corner booth for her. It was just out of the way enough for her to be comfortable with a braced leg and crutches but near enough to the festivities to make her feel like she was taking part.

Larry's was always full of partiers on New Years Eve and this year was no different. Her sister, Sarah, was here with her husband Jon and their two kids, Andy and Emily. Both children had thought it fun to use Grace's crutches as horses and gallop around the bar. In fact, Grace tried to search for the two little ones, she had no idea where her crutches ended up. Oh well, judging from the look of things she wasn't going to be leaving anytime soon.

Bobby and Alex had picked her up outside Bellevue earlier on that day and brought her straight to her Uncle's bar. Both had left her to the mercies of her Aunt Carol and Uncle Larry, who fawned over her for an entire hour. Carol had even brought down three pillows from their apartment over the bar and stuffed them behind Grace. Larry kept bringing her glasses of water and monitored her pain killer intake.

Grace propped her head up on her unbroken arm. She was starting to get tired and it wasn't even eight o'clock yet. She was thankful that her bruises and cuts on her face had healed completely. Granted her entire chest and back were now a lovely shade of green, black and purple, as was seventy-five percent of her left leg. Her leg was in a support brace that started at her thigh and went down her ankle. At least it could be removed at the end of the day, not like the cast that still on her left wrist.

"You look like the Queen of Sheba sitting over here."

Grace looked up to see Alex and Bobby had returned, with an unfamiliar face in tow. Alex was the one that spoke. Alex and Bobby both had changed out of their normal dress clothes that they wore on the job into a more relaxed dress.

Grace tried to sit up a little straighter. "You guys look great."

"Thanks," Alex motioned to the tall man behind her, "this is Terry, Grace."

Grace gave him a wave. "Nice to meet you, Terry. I would get up and shake your hand, but..."

"No, no," he waved his hand and smiled, "Alex told me what happened. It's nice to meet you too."

"Before you guys go forth and party, wait just a minute." Grace straightened up and raised her voice slightly. "Uncle Larry?"

"You sure he can hear you?" Bobby asked.

Before Grace could say "yes," Larry appeared by the side of the table. "What do you need, Grace?"

She motioned to the trio standing before her. "Uncle Larry, I'm sure you remember Bobby and Alex."

"Of course," he shook both their hands. "I'm glad you guys decided to come tonight."

"And this is Terry, Uncle Larry."

Terry got his hand shook.

"Now," Grace gave her Uncle a knowing look, "Memorize these faces."

Larry gave her a brief nod before moving back behind the bar. Alex gave her a very guarded look. "What was that all about?"

"Whatever you guys want tonight is on the house. We discussed it after you dropped me off earlier today. He wanted to do that for you guys and your, uh, guest for the evening."

Before anyone could react, Grace's Aunt Carol had returned to the table with a tray of drinks. She placed a fresh glass of ice water in front of Grace and took away the barely touched hour old glass. She then handed a margarita to Alex, giving her a one armed hug.

"Good to see you both again," she beamed. She handed a glass of scotch to Bobby. "Now, Terry, is it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I don't know what you like to drink."

"Gin tonic, sounds good."

Grace watched Alex and Terry follow her Aunt towards the bar. She felt the seat of the booth give somewhat and turned to see that Bobby had squeezed his massive frame into the area next to her.

"That's very generous of your Uncle."

Grace nodded. "He appreciates everything you and Alex did for me. It's his way of thanking you. So, what's the deal with Terry?"

Bobby shrugged and halfway-grinned. "I don't really know. She has gone out him before."

"Good for them." Grace took a sip of her water. "So, where's your date for the evening?"

He stared down at his hands. "Hopefully she's sitting right next to me."

Grace laughed. "Bobby, go out there and find yourself a girl who can dance and drink and party till the ball drops tonight. In about hour I'll be sound asleep in this corner with my niece and nephew."

"Hey, Grace," Sarah stopped in front of their table, her face flushed and Grace's crutches in her hand. She took notice of Bobby and extended her hand. "Hi, Bobby, it's good to see you again."

"You two know each other," Grace asked.

"Of course we do," Sarah spoke up, "there was a whole week when you were surrounded by people who cared and loved you that you were unconscious. Bobby even met Angela briefly."

Bobby grinned into his scotch glass. "Ah, yes, Angela."

"Anyway, Grace, I came to return your crutches and say my good nights. Jon and I are going to take the kids home." Sarah leaned across the table and gave Grace a gentle hug before waving to Bobby. "Enjoy yourselves."

"I like your sisters."

Grace threw a piece of ice in Bobby's direction. "Liar."

"Ok," he watched the piece of frozen water skitter off the table, "I like Sarah."

"That's better. Sarah's been my favorite, even though you're not supposed to have favorites." Grace waited for him to continue the conversation but he remained strangely quiet. She glanced down at her jeans and sweatshirt and compared her wardrobe to the glitter and glitz that was moving out on the dancing area her uncle had cleared out earlier that day. "I'm serious Bobby, there are a lot of women that show up here at night looking to dance and party. Uncle Larry's bar attracts a fairly mellow crowd but fun, none the less."

"Grace, what's so hard to believe about my wanting to spend New Years Eve with you?"

"I'm not exactly...fun and exciting right now."

"Well, I hate to break it to you but you weren't exactly fun and exciting for the past month. And yet," he looked dramatically towards the ceiling, "where was I every evening for the past month?"

"Ok, I see your point, but tonight is different."

"How so?"

She didn't know why she was pushing him away. Instinct, maybe. A desire not to be hurt anymore. If he wasn't directly involved in the situation, she was sure Bobby would be able to explain it to her full detail. "Tonight is made for enjoying yourself. Dance and drink until midnight, watch the ball drop, make out like teenagers and then spend the beginning of the new year nursing a hangover."

Bobby seemed to think over what she said and Grace prepared herself for his departure into the night. But after a couple seconds thought, he shrugged and rested an arm on the back of booth, precariously close to her shoulders.

"You know, I think I'm getting too old for the drinking all night long and dealing with the hangover the next morning."

"What about the dancing and making out part?"

He gave her a wide grin. "Never too old for that. Besides, your niece and nephew went home, which means this booth isn't going to be that crowded for the rest of the night."

"So you're just going to sit here, all night, while I fall asleep and drool?"

"I'm getting kind of used to it now."

Grace emitted a cross between a groan and a laugh. Bobby wasn't going to follow her advice and she was happy about that. He really did want to be around her. She discovered from his constant visiting in the hospital that he was a fairly shy person, who was big on keeping to himself. But with what Nicole Wallace had put them both through, keeping secrets from each other was impossible.

Surprisingly though, it didn't seem to matter. She felt sorry for him over his college experience and his mother but lessen him as a person in her eyes. He was not bothered in the least at her two month stay in Carmel Ridge and was actually almost pleased about her befriending his mother. He had even asked her to come with him to visit her when Grace was feeling better. There was something comforting about him, about being around him. She felt protected without him being protective. They just seemed to...fit. With a tired sigh, she leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes.


	14. Tango to Hell

Disclaimer: Don't own, not making money off this.

Author's Note: Thank you for the great reviews guys. I hope that you all enjoy this chapter. It was a roller coaster to write, I hope it's a roller coaster to read. Shellster: Thank you so much for you condolences. They mean a lot to me right now.

Sins of the Father

Chapter Fourteen: Tango to Hell

_So you think, "Might as well,_

_Dance a tango to hell."_

_Tango Maureen, RENT_

Grace sat down wearily in her chair and rubbed her knee. She had been one month without the brace, two months back at work and still was suffering some minor aches and pains. The doctors and therapist had told her to never expect the knee to go back to 100. Of course, she grinned, dancing with Bobby until two in the morning probably wasn't the best thing for her healing knee.

"How are you feeling?"

Grace looked up and stopped rubbing her knee. Dr. Rodgers was standing in the office doorway. "I'm feeling fine."

"Knee hurting?"

"It's a little stiff. Nothing to worry about."

Rodgers gave her a quick nod before laying down a small stack of files. "These are the autopsies that the intern did today. I was wondering if you could look over them and double check the paperwork."

"Sure," Grace added them to her stack of paperwork for the five autopsies she performed that day. Rodgers picked up the picture frame that was sitting on Grace's desk. It wasn't until she was released from the hospital that Grace actually put out some pictures, giving her office a more personal touch. She had noticed Rodgers sneaking peaks and asking about the people in the photos, obviously pleased by the change of décor.

"This is a great picture," Rodgers laughed as she set the frame back down on the desk. Grace had just put it out that morning. It was of her and Bobby on Valentine's Day. They had decided to double date with Alex and Terry. Alex had snapped the picture of them head on in a tango starting pose with semi-serious looks on their faces. It was one of Grace's favorites.

"Yeah, I kind of like it."

Rodgers gave her a shrewd stare. "You and Goren seeing a lot of each other lately?"

Grace wondered when her boss was going to get around to that subject. "I guess so."

"Maybe I should find someone else to look over the intern's paperwork."

Grace laid a hand on the top of the files. "Goren's working late tonight."

"Ah. Well, I'll leave you to it then. See you tomorrow morning."

Grace waved a good bye as Rodgers made her way out of the office. She gave her knee one last quick rub down before starting on her paperwork. She breezed over the intern's work and found it to be very good. She jotted down a couple notes about being slightly more thorough on findings and moved on to her own paperwork. Around six o'clock her office phone rang.

"Harris."

"Grace, it's Alex, you're never going to believe this."

"What? What happened?" She heard Alex take a deep breath on the other line.

"We got Nicole Wallace."

"Great. I'll be right over. Just let me make a call first."

"You don't have to come," Alex said. "I just thought I'd tell you we got her."

"I want to see this first hand. I'll see you soon."

Alex laughed. "Okay then. See ya."

Grace hung up the phone and grabbed her jacket. Pulling out her phone she hit the speed dial for the SVU switchboard. When the automated operator came on, she dialed the extension she wanted. Two rings and the person picked up.

"Benson."

"Detective Benson, this is Dr. Harris from the ME's office. I need some information from you if you have a few minutes."

When Grace stepped off the elevator she could practically feel the buzz in the bullpen. It was like the day before Christmas break in a classroom: everyone was there because they had to be but no work was getting done. Captain Deakins wasn't in his office and Bobby and Alex were away from their desks.

Grace squared her shoulders and dared anyone to stop her but no one gave her a second look. She passed by the visitors rooms which were all empty. That only left the interrogation rooms. She went to the middle room door and opened it to find Captain Deakins and a very lawyer-looking man facing one of the two way mirrors.

"Who are you?" the lawyer asked. Deakins gave her a slightly suspicious look before answering the question.

"This is Dr. Grace Harris, she works at the ME's office." He turned to look at Grace. "Did Goren call you?"

"No, Eames."

"Oh," he said before pointing to the lawyer. "This is ADA Ron Carver."

Grace crept up to the mirror and looked through the window. She immediately recognized all three people in the room. Alex was leaning back in her chair, watching Nicole Wallace stare her down. Bobby was pacing around the room like a caged lion. She had seen that look before whenever he was close to cracking a case. It was merely single minded determination. And Nicole looked emotionally solid as a rock.

"Let me talk to her."

"Yeah, right," Deakins said.

"No, really, let me talk to her."

The captain gave her a hard look. "Maybe you didn't understand me. No."

"Look, I talked to this woman for three days. She sat across from me and spilled my secrets as well as Bobby's. Let me repay the favor."

Deakins looked back into the interrogation room. Bobby was still pacing. Alex was pinching the bridge of her nose. The police captain gave Carver a fleeting look before looking back at Grace.

"If you can get into that room and stay long enough to get any information out of that woman, I'll try to hold back Goren and Eames from interrupting."

Grace nodded. "Deal."

"Wait a minute," Carver started to object but Deakins knocked on the glass and cut him off. Grace headed out of the room and stood by the water cooler in the bullpen and watched Bobby and Alex switch rooms, frustration written on their faces. As soon as they were safely in the observation room, Grace made her way towards the interrogation room.

"What's going on?" Goren asked. His captain merely looked like someone had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. Goren groaned. "Don't tell me we've hit another legal technicality."

Carver held up both his hands in a placating manner. "I have nothing to do with this."

Goren looked back into the interrogation room to see Grace entering the room. Deakins hit the button so they could hear what was going on.

"What's she doing in there?" Goren demanded.

Eames rubbed her face tiredly. "I shouldn't have called her."

"You called her?"

"I thought she would want to know. She was thrilled," Eames answered defensively.

"We can't let her shred her mind," Goren said as he started for the door. Deakins grabbed his arm though and he turned to look at his captain.

"Just listen to who's shredding who's mind in there."

Goren looked to Eames for some support but she merely shrugged her shoulders and directed her attention to the mirror. He rubbed the back of his neck and took up a stance next to his partner. Grace had taken a seat next to Nicole, who was watching the red-head very guardedly. Grace looked like she normally did: jeans, sweater and her hair was down in loose curls. Any signs of her beating had been long since healed except for a slight stiffness to her knee.

He braced his hands on the ledge of the observation window. He would let Grace try to play her game with Nicole but at the first sign of damage, emotional or otherwise, he was going to be the first one in there. They had come too far, invested too much into their relationship to have Nicole Wallace tear them apart.

"So," Grace was saying, "Bobby's been looking for you since November. How did they catch you?"

Nicole glanced at the mirror before giving Grace a disarming smile. "I made the unfortunate mistake of befriending Bobby's brother in a casino. I guess you never know who you play poker with."

"You'd make a good poker player."

Nicole showed the slightest twinge of being uncomfortable. Goren shifted on his feet. Maybe Grace knew what she was doing.

"You really think so?"

Grace shrugged. "Sure. Anyone who goes through what we went through," Grace motioned to Nicole, herself and then at the mirror, "becomes very good at hiding emotions."

Nicole's cold hearted demeanor came back. "What are you suggesting we all went through?"

"What was it you said to Bobby over the phone? Wasn't it something about it's the sins of our fathers that bind us altogether?"

"He told you about that?"

Grace waved her hand in a very Goren-esque gesture. "He told me everything. About those sins, though, they would be what? Abandonment?"

"Yes, those who have been abandoned always end up abandoning those they love. It's inevitable, Grace." Nicole cocked her head to the side. "Tell me something, are you and Bobby happy?"

Grace gave Nicole a very sly smile, one that Goren had come to know very well. She was getting ready to unleash that barbed tongue of hers.

"How did you know about Bobby and me? Do I smell like him?"

Nicole laughed suddenly. "What?"

"I can't smell anything," Grace admitted. "All the formaldehyde from college burned away the lining in my nose. I couldn't even tell you if the man wears cologne. But I figure since we had lunch today and he hugged me maybe some of his cologne rubbed off on my clothes. Do I smell like him?"

"It was merely a guess, nothing else."

"Oh. Well, why did you want to know?"

"To warn you. Coming from such similar backgrounds, you're both doomed from the beginning. His father abandoned his family, your father did the same. It's not a matter of if, Grace, but when." Nicole leaned on the table and smiled wickedly. "So, who do you think will leave first? Will you? Will you leave Bobby before he leaves you or will you allow him to leave?"

Goren watched Grace's reaction very closely but her face remained stone still. Even her fingers didn't move. He could feel Eames' gaze on him but he ignored it, searching for anything in Grace's demeanor to tell him that she didn't buy into Nicole's words. Then he saw it. A heartbreaking look of sadness crept into Grace's face but it wasn't the kind of sadness she had ever shown him. This grief was full of pity. And when Nicole noticed it, he could practically see her blood pressure rise.

"You've never been in love, have you, Nicole?"

"Love is highly overrated, dear."

Grace shook her head in all seriousness. "You wouldn't say that if you had ever been in love."

"Then you tell me, Grace. What is being in love like?"

A shy smile passed over Grace's face. "It's like the world has gone from black and white to color."

The triumphant smile on Nicole's face faded somewhat.

"Is there any point to this?" Carver spoke up.

Goren let out a short laugh and crossed his arms. "Oh, yeah. There's definitely a point to this."

Grace had leaned forward to look at Nicole head on. "Did you ever feel that way, Nicole? Did you ever meet someone that just made the world seem to be so much fuller of life than you believe it to be?"

Nicole remained strangely quiet.

"No one, Nicole? What about your boyfriend? You know, the one that beat me within an inch of my life."

"I didn't mean for that to happen."

Everyone jumped to attention behind the glass. Carver was the first to find his voice.

"She just admitted to being at the crime scene with the butchered drug bodies and Grace's beating. We can definitely connect her to the drug running now."

"I know you didn't mean for that to happen," Grace said. "That's not your style, is it?"

"Style?"

"Yeah, style. You know, if you wanted me dead, I would be dead. Like your Thai victims, your daughter-"

"I did not kill my daughter."

"Oh, that's right," Grace scooted her chair closer to Nicole. "She was swept out to sea and found inland in iron rich soil. I forgot. But don't you see, Nicole? This all goes back to our father's sins. Those indiscretions fall on us."

"Yes, they do."

"I was surprised when you didn't throw a certain indiscretion at me when I was in your company those few days before Thanksgiving. You see, Nicole, we share the same sin. That sin that absolves us from all crime that we commit in this life because of the severity of what was done to us."

Nicole looked very uncomfortable. Goren had to admit, he was feeling slightly alarmed at where this conversation was going. Grace had never shared any form of abuse with him. He highly doubted after everything else they had shared that she would leave that piece of information out.

Grace moved closer still to Nicole. "Maybe you left out that part of my past because it wasn't my father who committed it, but rather his brother. Was that why, Nicole?"

"I...I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do," Grace's voice dropped to a whisper and she glanced up at the mirror briefly. "You see Nicole, I've been in that locked room, waiting to hear someone, anyone, to come down the hallway to rescue me from what happened behind that closed door."

Goren couldn't believe that she was using his words to break through Nicole's defenses. That was why she looked up at the mirror. She was asking his permission to use his words. A new sense of pride and love for Grace hit him as he watched Nicole's eyes widen and she started to shake her head.

"No, no, that never happened to me."

"Nicole," Grace wrapped her hands around Nicole's, "it wasn't your fault. It was his, it was his entire fault. What he did to you made you the killer you are today."

"No!" Nicole screeched and stood up so fast her chair hit the concrete wall with a loud thud. "It's not true!"

Grace stood up just as fast. "His sin fell on you and you've tried to wash it away with blood because soap and water doesn't remove the stain!"

"It never happened!"

"You can't leave the room that he locked you in until you acknowledge where you are. He put you in that room and locked the door. You didn't wander into it, you didn't even go looking for it. He drug you in there."

"No."

"He forced you to stay in that room, no escape and all for him."

"No!"

"That's why you let your French boyfriend run all over you. That's why you watched him beat me and didn't do anything to stop him."

Nicole was almost in tears. "I told you that wasn't my idea. I didn't want him to hurt you. I tried to stop him."

"Like you tried to stop your father when he-"

"STOP!"

Goren watched in horror as Grace launched herself at Nicole and wrapped her arms around the other woman. Nicole struggled against the embrace like a wild animal but Grace held on with more strength then Goren knew she had.

"Nicole, listen to me, it wasn't your sin, not back then. It was your father's sin. It was his fault."

A heart wrenching sob filled the interrogation and observation rooms. Nicole collapsed against Grace, a shaking and sobbing mass.

"He said I was so pretty," she muttered. "He said it was my fault for being so pretty."

A pained looked came across Grace's face. Goren had little alarms going off in his head but he kept telling himself that Grace almost had a confession out of Nicole so to just sit tight. Grace kept her hands on Nicole's shoulders.

"Did you kill all those people that your files say you did?"

Nicole nodded. "I was trying to wipe away what my father had done."

Grace breathed in a ragged breath and closed her eyes. "And your daughter?"

"She was so pretty, too. Bobby was right."

"We've got enough on her to possibly seek the death penalty now," Carver admitted.

"Finally," Deakins spoke up.

"Well, let's get Grace out of here so she can recuperate from a round with Wallace," Eames suggested.

Goren led the way, something still nagging at his mind. He opened the interrogation room door and found both women still on the floor. Grace saw him come in and immediately pushed Nicole off her. Goren grabbed the Aussie's shoulders and lifted her to her feet.

"It's over, Nicole."

She turned and gave him an ice cold stare through her tears. "Yes, I suppose it is."

He passed her off to the two officers that were waiting at the door. Grace was standing up but was leaning on the table, an arm across her chest. Her head was bowed and he could see wet droplets had fallen on the shiny, metal table.

"I wouldn't shed any more tears over her, Grace," Eames said.

Then Goren noticed that the droplets weren't coming from her eyes, but from her forehead. It was sweat, not tears. He stepped forward and laid a hand on Grace's shoulders, forcing her to look at him.

"What's the matter, Grace?"

Those familiar green eyes found his. Her skin was an ashen white. She swallowed forcefully and blinked back the pain and apology in her eyes. Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke.

"She found the pen I had in my coat pocket."

Before it registered in Goren's mind what she had said, Grace's knees gave out. Goren caught her and laid her down on the floor. Eames cursed loudly behind him before screaming for a paramedic. Grace's silver inscribed pen was imbedded in her chest from an upward thrust. A direct shot to her heart.


	15. Without You

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, just having fun. I'm not making any money so please don't sue.

Author's Note: I love my reviewers! You guys are just so awesome! Rock on!

Sins of the Father

Chapter Fifteen: Without You

Alex had taken care of all the Wallace paperwork for Carver and sent it over to the Hogan Place ADA's office before heading over to the hospital with Captain Deakins. Bobby had called them a half hour ago saying that Grace was going to live after another long hospital stay.

"I shouldn't have let her in the interrogation room alone."

Alex looked over at her captain as he parked the SUV in the hospital parking garage. "What?"

He sighed heavily. "I told her if she could get in there I would hold you and Goren back so she could talk to Wallace. I should have had someone else in there."

"If there was someone else in there, Wallace wouldn't have confessed."

"Was it really worth it though?"

It was Alex's turn to sigh. She had seen what it did to her partner when they found Grace in the morgue. He had held himself together very well at Major Case when the paramedics showed up and strapped Grace to a gurney again. Deakins had practically pushed the larger man into the elevator with the medics, telling them that Goren was to go to the hospital with them. Alex didn't know what kind of state they were going to find him in when they arrived.

"Let's go ask Grace and Bobby if it was worth it." Alex stated.

She followed her captain inside the building. He asked the receptionist in the ER about Grace's whereabouts. She could see the shock on his face from where she was standing.

"What's the matter?"

Deakins rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothing. They moved her to a regular hospital room already. Said her doctor can fill us in on the details. She's in room 511."

They got onto the elevator and Alex pushed the button for the fifth floor. Deakins cleared his throat and shifted on his feet.

"Does Goren really care about this woman?"

Alex gave her captain a surprised look. He never pried into their personal life. "Uh, yeah, I think he does care a lot for her." Actually, she didn't think, she knew. For the five years that she had known him, the only personal effect he had on his desk was that Santa mug. She had made the mistake of the asking where he got the goofy thing and immediately regretted it when he told her his mother had actually remembered it was Christmas this year. The mug had been the first gift in years from his mom. But now there was picture of him and Grace in Central Park with snow and Christmas lights in the background.

"Does she care for him?"

She looked up at her Captain and saw that fatherly protectiveness that she only saw at grave times. As rough and callous as he appeared, he took pride in his detectives and over that past five years that pride had turned into a professional concern when hard times hit.

"If she didn't care about Bobby would she walk into a room alone with Wallace and wait out a confession with a pen in her chest?"

Deakins nodded his head. "Good point."

The elevator dinged at their arrival to the fifth floor. The doors opened and they came face to face with Goren.

"Where are you going?" Deakins asked. Alex had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

"Grace is asleep. I was going to-"

"It's alright," Deakins laughed. "She's doing ok?"

Alex stepped off the elevator, followed by Deakins. Bobby looked tired but not as lost as he had in the previous hospital stay.

"Yeah, amazingly enough. They prepped her for surgery but the doctor said when they got her in there the injury wasn't nearly as bad as they thought. The pen missed her heart by millimeters so they just removed it, plugged the hole and sent her to recovery."

"How long did it take them?" Alex asked.

Bobby shrugged. "It couldn't have been more than thirty minutes before they told me she was in recovery."

"Did she wake up?" Deakins asked.

"Yeah, she did," Bobby laughed. "She asked where her pen was."

"That's a very Grace thing to say," Alex added.

"You were going to get food?" Deakins asked.

"Yeah, I was."

"I'll get it." Deakins offered. "What do you want? Chinese? Subs?"

"Uh, Grace wanted wanton soup."

"Chinese it is then. Anything particular you two want?"

Both shook their heads and Deakins got back on the elevator. Bobby gave her a curious look.

"That was awfully nice of him."

Alex gave him a slight smile. "He feels guilty over sending Grace into interrogation."

"He sent her in?"

"He gave her permission."

Bobby nodded his head and started back down the hallway. "Grace was asking about you too."

It surprised Alex but she knew it shouldn't. She had been around Grace enough now to consider her a friend. But the fact that she asked about her still startled her. "What did she want to know?"

"If you were alright or if Nicole got a hold of you too. Her memory on the last few minutes of the interrogation are little fuzzy."

"Carver said he's going to need her to testify at Nicole's case."

"The doctors said it was just the anesthesia that was muddling her thinking. She'll be able to testify. Once she realized that we all were safe she asked when the court date was."

They both stopped by the door and watched Grace who was sleeping, or at least appeared to be sleeping. Alex had found that the woman looked like she was sleeping so she could eavesdrop on the conversation going on around her. Alex looked up at her partner who had a mix of contentment and apprehension on his face.

"What's the matter, Bobby?"

He shrugged his large shoulders. "I just don't know if I can han...handle things like this."

In case Grace wasn't asleep, Alex pulled Bobby back out into the hallway. "What do you mean?"

He rubbed his hands over his face. "I don't know. I just...I hate seeing her in the hospital, again, because she's doing something that she thinks will help..."

"Help you?"

"Yeah. I'm the one who got her hurt and almost killed twice in six months time. Maybe it would be best-"

"Don't you dare say it, Robert Goren. I've watched you come in the next day from dates with countless women and none of them touched you the way this woman has." It was going to be a cruel blow to him but Alex couldn't stop herself from saying it anyway. "If you break it off with Grace then you're doing exactly what Nicole Wallace said you would."

Frustration flashed in Bobby's eyes. "Now wait, that's unfair."

"No, it's the truth. It was Grace's idea to go into the interrogation room today. It was her conscious choice to do that. You didn't make her."

"I was the reason why she did it though."

"But _she_ did it. As for the first time she got hurt, that was inevitable. It could have happened to me, Bobby. All those times I meet you at a crime scene that could be a set up." Alex crossed her arms. "How can you even think about leaving her after what she said in the interrogation?"

"I checked her background, Alex. The child molestation, it was made up to gain Nicole's trust."

Alex shook her head. Men were so dumb sometimes. "Not that, Bobby. What she said about being in love. How it is was seeing everything in color instead of black and white. You saw the look on her face. She meant every word of that."

Bobby slumped back against the wall. "I don't know what to do."

"Figure it out soon." Alex snapped before walking into the hospital room. Grace was awake now and staring out the window. Alex looked behind her to see if Bobby had followed her but she heard his cell phone ring and him answering it. She turned her gaze back to Grace, who was still staring out the window.

"How are you feeling?"

Grace wrapped a finger around a red curl. "He's going to leave me, isn't he?"

Alex sunk down on the bed. "What?"

"I could still hear you, when you were out in the hallway."

"Grace, look-"

But Grace's head had turned towards the door. Alex followed her line of vision and saw that Bobby has entered the room. Alex stood up, bracing herself for whatever ill news he had received. His entire demeanor had changed from agitation to complete brokenness.

"What's the matter?" Grace whispered. Bobby flinched as if she had shouted the question.

"My, uh, my mom."

Alex took a step towards him. "What about her?"

"She, uh, had a heart attack. She's, uh, she's gone. I've got to, to go to-" and he promptly walked out the door. Alex turned to look at Grace.

"Go, Alex, go with him."

Alex grabbed Grace's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I'll be back."


	16. The Scent of Rain

Disclaimer: I do not own. Just borrowing for a little more time till the next fan fiction I start. ;-) I'm not making money on this, just having fun.

Author's Note: I know I'm evil and cruel. I'm terribly sorry for that but hopefully this chapter will make up for it…somewhat. To answer Lallyb1743, there is one more chapter and an Epilogue. So hang in there folks, you're almost there.

Sins of the Father

Chapter Sixteen: The Scent of Rain

Grace leaned against the small tree in the graveyard and watched the procession from the back of the crowd. Of course, it wasn't that big of a crowd but she still kept her distance. She hadn't seen or heard from Bobby since he left her hospital room a week ago. Alex had visited her though, every night for the past week. She hadn't seen much of Bobby either but at least he answered the phone when she called.

"I didn't think you would make it."

Grace turned to see Alex standing next to her. She looked tired and worn out. Grace nodded. "I talked my doctor into releasing me this morning."

"How did you do that?"

"I told him I was leaving. I said I had someplace that I needed to be today."

"Are you going back?"

"I've had enough of hospitals. I can take care of the wound now. It's almost healed up anyway."

Alex gave her an unconvinced look but nodded anyway. "Bobby has tomorrow off but then Deakins is expecting him back to work."

"How is he?"

Alex shrugged. "Hurting. But that's all I know. I've had two minute conversations with him and this is the first time I've actually seen him."

"I didn't even know if he wanted me here."

"Fran Goren was your friend too from what I've heard. Besides, he needs someone around him now and he only keeps me at arms length."

Grace noticed that the crowd was starting to disperse. She watched as Bobby made his way back to the parking area with a slow stride. He never looked around the area as he walked towards the black Jetta that had a waiting driver in it.

"Who's that?" Grace asked.

Alex let out a frustrated noise. "His brother. It took him four days to track him down."

"Well, at least he has someone to be with now." Grace turned to go but Alex stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"He didn't see you, Grace."

"Sure."

"You want a ride home?"

"Yeah, okay."

Grace followed Alex back to her car and lowered herself carefully into the passenger's side. Her wound wasn't nearly has healed as she had told Alex but she wasn't going to miss the funeral. She had hoped for an acknowledgement from Bobby but was too afraid to talk to him. Alex was probably right. He just hadn't seen her.

"Did Olivia Benson come to see you any more?" Alex asked once they left the graveyard.

"A couple times. Mostly to ream me out for using the info she gave me to get a pen in my chest."

"What info was that?"

"After you called me about Wallace getting arrested I called Olivia Benson to see how a child molestation victim would react. What would they look for in a person who could gain their trust? Benson told me that the first thing they would want in a confidant is to know that they went through a similar event. It would establish a connection. I told her the advice worked but she didn't seem too happy about that."

"Might have had something to do with you laying in a hospital bed after taking her advice."

Grace laughed slightly. "Might."

Alex pulled up to the curb by Larry's bar. "This good enough?"

"Oh yeah, I wanted to stop in and see my Uncle anyway. Thanks for the ride."

"Sure. And Grace, don't give up on Bobby."

Grace pulled herself out of Alex's car and leaned back down to respond her. "He has till tomorrow to call me before I pound down his door."

Alex smiled. "Call me if you need back up."

Grace shut the door and watched Alex pull away from the curb before heading into the bar. It was late afternoon, clouds were starting to roll in for yet another April shower. It seemed to match Grace's mood. There was a storm coming and the best thing to do before a storm was loosen up with a few drinks. If anything, she needed something to take away the pain in her chest. Leaving the hospital the way she had, her doctor didn't prescribe any painkillers for her. He still expected to see her back that night. Grace stepped into her Uncle's bar and noticed the surprised look on his face. This was definitely going to be a long night.

Bobby sat down on his leather couch, a scotch glass in one hand, whiskey in the other. His brother had dropped him off at his apartment and quickly left to catch the next plane out of town. He didn't even know where his brother was going. He couldn't even remember what had transpired this past week. All he knew was the hurt that was inside him. That dull, empty feeling that seemed to overtake all other emotions.

He never remembered crying as much as he had this past week either. It seemed like it was an uncontrollable force where he just wept at any given time with no warning. He had to get control of that before going back to work. Deakins had very generous with him by giving him the past week and tomorrow off. He needed to repay that kindness by showing up ready to do his job and not fall apart for any reason.

He finished his glass of whiskey and poured himself another one, leaning into the couch so his head rested on the back. The apartment never seemed to be lonely before but with the loss his mother and the absence of Grace only seemed to amplify the silence.

Grace.

He had tried not to notice her presence at the funeral and graveyard but he simply couldn't. At first he thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him, like it had this past week. But then he noticed Alex talking with her at the gravesite and realized that Grace wasn't a figment of his imagination. Once he admitted to himself that she was indeed there, standing and looking unharmed, he became overwhelmed with the emotion of relief. She was there, alive and wanting to be there.

He had called the hospital as soon as he entered the apartment and found that Grace had been temporarily released from the hospital, expected to be back that night. He highly doubted that Grace was going to go back to the hospital which meant she was home. She was two blocks away from him. She was so close. Before his mind had time to talk him out of it, he finished the second glass of whiskey and grabbed his coat.

Grace changed out her dark skirt and black top she had worn to the funeral into flannel pants and long sleeved T-shirt. She had made herself a cup of tea and settled into her armchair to watch the show Mother Nature was putting on. The clouds had decided to open up and unleash the water they held. Grace had gotten caught in the chilly downpour in her not so quick walk across the street. Unfortunately the cold water had taken her buzz off and she was back to hurting again, inside and out.

A knock on her door startled her out of her thoughts. She wondered if maybe it was Ed Green checking up on her. Or perhaps Alex. Carefully she pushed herself out of the chair and there was another knock, louder this time.

"Hang on, I'm coming."

She peeked through the peephole in the door and was startled by what she saw. Bobby was standing there, dripping wet and shivering. Sliding back the deadbolt and unlocking the doorknob, she opened the door to him.

"Did you walk here?"

"Y-yes."

"Come in," she stood back and let him come into her apartment. She was shocked by his arrival, to say the least. She had expected him to close himself off from the world and everyone in it. Instead, he shows up on the doorstep of the woman he's been avoiding for the past week. "Let me get you a towel."

If he heard he didn't acknowledge what she had said. Grace merely went into her hall closet and pulled a towel from the lowest shelf. Her next stop was the closet in the bedroom. Bobby had left an extra pair of clothes in there for when her niece and nephew came over to play in the snow in Central Park. Grace had promised to take them and Bobby had the day off so he came with them. He had brought a change of clothes figuring on snowball fights and sledding. Grace smiled at the memory. He was right to bring extra clothes.

She found him standing in her kitchen, still shivering and dripping large droplets of water. He must have noticed her curious look.

"D-didn't want to d-drip on your c-carpet."

"It's only water, Bobby." She laid the clothes on the kitchen counter and unfolded the towel. "You left those clothes here from-"

"Central Park."

"Yeah."

"That was a g-good day."

"It was, yes. I need you to sit down, Bobby." Grace pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and he reluctantly sat down in it. Once he was seated, Grace dropped the towel over his head and rubbed his hair, head and neck like she would have her nephew's. His shivering started to subside but his head remained bowed. Grace tugged on his wet jacket and finally, with his help, was able to get soaking wet coat off him.

"Th-thanks."

"Why don't you go take a hot shower and warm up?"

He reached out and wrapped his icy fingers around her wrist. "We need to talk."

"We'll talk afterwards."

Slowly he stood up, took the clothes off the counter and headed out of the kitchen. A couple minutes later she heard the water turn on. She put the kitchen chair back and sat down on the couch, still holding the damp towel in her hands. She really didn't know what to expect when he emerged from the shower, whether it was to finish off the relationship they had or if it was to continue. Given the very recent passing of his mother, Grace was unfortunately putting her money of the former.

Letting out the breath she had been holding, she leaned back against her couch and watched the rain run down the window. If he wanted to end the relationship, she would let him. She had quickly learned from their four months of being together that it was next to impossible to argue with him. He always had his arguments planned out with a logical defense for each point. If he wanted out that bad, she would give it him, without question or debate. _Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all_, as the saying goes.

Grace swiped at her eyes, brushing away the tears that had formed. She had better get it out of her system before he came back into the living room. She didn't want him to leave. She had enjoyed the past four months entirely too much to just have him walk out because he was worried over getting her hurt. But the tears weren't just over that. Alex had been right. Fran had been her friend too. She had rekindled that relationship from eight years ago in the past few months.

She hung her head and wept for Fran and Bobby. She buried her head in the still damp towel and sobbed. But something stopped her tears in an instant. Pulling back from the terrycloth, she stared at it for a moment before lifting it to her face again. She inhaled deeply and found that she had not been mistaken. She could smell his cologne that had rubbed off onto the towel.


	17. Goren's Grace

Disclaimer: I don't own, just playing and not making money off it.

Authors Note: Well, folks, just have the epilogue to do now. Sorry this chapter was kind of short but it got across everything that I wanted it to. I really hope you all enjoyed the story and stick around for the epilogue! Lots of hugs go out to my reviewers, I wish you all the best holiday season ever!

Sins of the Father

Chapter Seventeen: Goren's Grace

Grace turned on the coffeepot when she heard the water turn off in the bathroom. Not knowing where or how long the conversation was going to be, she figured she should be prepared. Mentally she talked herself up for the worst. That he was here solely for the purpose of finishing what he wanted to do before he received news of his mother's death. She kept repeating the mantra: You want him happy. This will make him happy. She heard him step into the kitchen and set something down on the counter. A small perfume bottle was there.

"What's that?" She looked over to see Bobby, hair damp from his shower and dressed in his dry jeans and black sweater. His eyes were on the floor and he was shuffling his feet.

"It's your, uh, it's your perfume."

Grace picked up the bottle and noticed that it was her perfume. Sarah had bought it for her, picking out the scent since Grace couldn't. "How did you get this?"

He moved over to the window in the kitchen and stared out at the rain. "I took it. I came over after coming back from Carmel Ridge last week. I didn't...I didn't want to be alone."

"And how does my perfume fit into this?" Grace had to lean towards him to hear his whispered answer.

"I, uh, I used it, to...to uh, spray on my pillow."

Grace leaned back against the kitchen counter. Her head hurt, her chest hurt and the weariness of the day was catching up with her. "Why did you do that after what you said at the hospital?"

He finally turned to look at her, confusion written on his face but realization soon followed. "You heard all that?"

Grace nodded. "I understand how you feel. I worry about your safety too. I had a week of thinking and I came to conclusion that this whole Nicole Wallace mess is my fault."

"How is it your fault?"

"I was the one that discovered Sophie Kapirelli's suicide wasn't a suicide. That's what connected Kapirelli to Tabbitha Lewis, which led us to the high quality coke that Wallace and her boyfriend were running. So, everything that happened, it really is my fault."

"You did your job, very well." A dark look passed across his face. "And then some."

"Bobby-"

"I can't take it, Grace." He threw his hands up in the air and started pacing around the kitchen. "That day I found you in the morgue. I can't get that picture out of my mind. Opening that drawer and seeing you there, bruised and broken. You looked dead. Then there was the interrogation room. Watching them lift you off the floor with that pen sticking out of your chest. I haven't slept for the past week because every time I close my eyes, I see you dead. And I can't take it."

Grace squared her shoulders and forced the words out of her mouth. "Then leave."

He gave her a thoroughly shocked look, which would have been comical if she was inclined to laugh. But the words had hurt coming out and it looked like they hurt to be heard as well. Bobby finally seemed to find his voice again. "What?"

"I don't want to cause you so much pain and apparently, that's all I have caused you so maybe it's best if you just left and we won't have any more dealings with each other."

His pacing had stopped and hands had stilled. Grace had to fight back tears at the desperation and fear that had become evident in his eyes. Grace took a step back from him and found her back up against a wall. Perhaps she had been wrong about his coming to her place. Maybe he didn't want to leave her after all. Maybe she had been pushing all the wrong buttons with him. What kind of hateful person was she turning into? Shame flooded her face and she could feel the heat color her cheeks a bright red. She hung head to avoid looking at him.

"How can you say something like that, Grace?"

She heard him take a step towards her but she remained silent.

"Don't you remember New Years Eve?"

Their first kiss.

"Central Park?"

Playing with her niece and nephew he admitted wanting a family.

"Valentine's Day?"

He had told her he loved her. A tear slipped down her cheek. "What about...what you said at the hospital?"

"I was scared. I thought had I had lost you again. This past week has been an emotional circus and the only emotion that I can identify has been guilt."

"Guilt?"

"Yes, guilt. I felt culpable for what I had said at the hospital. Then I felt guilty over being relieved by my mother's death."

Grace chanced a glance up at him and found him on the other side of the kitchen again, staring out the window. "There's nothing wrong with feeling relieved over that, Bobby."

"She was my mother."

"I know. And you carried that burden with incredible strength. There should be a sense of relief." Grace moved slightly, putting the counter behind her, using her arms to keep her standing. Exhaustion was rolling over her in waves. But she had to get to the end of this discussion.

"I still pick up the phone every evening, getting ready to dial her number. I woke up Sunday morning, prepared to drive out to Carmel Ridge. And then I realize..."

Grace's vision blurred. Bobby sounded like he was in a tunnel, his voice coming from a very long distance. She felt her knees buckle but straightened her arms to keep herself from falling. Darkness fell suddenly and she wondered what was so cool on her face.

He was searching for something to say, some way of letting her know how he was feeling when he heard her hit the floor. Alarm overrode any guilt he was feeling at that moment as he knelt down next to her to check her pulse. It was high, but strong. As gently as he could, he gathered her in his arms and lifted her off the floor.

He should have taken into consideration her injuries, the fact that she most likely left the hospital before she should have. He should have known that she couldn't stand for as long as she had. She should probably go back to the hospital and stay there for a few more days. But for now, he was putting her in her own bed. Halfway down the hall, she woke up.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

She turned her head, burying it into his chest. "Don't leave?"

"No, I'm not leaving." He gently set her down on top of her bed, a quilt her Aunt Carol had made for her when she went off to college. "Do you want to get under the covers?"

She was struggling to sit up. "Can't sleep lying down yet."

He hadn't thought about that either. _Way to go Goren. _He helped her into a sitting position, stuffing pillows behind her. "I'm sorry."

She let her head fall back against the pillows, color was slowly coming back into her face. "Me too. Lay down with me?"

Quietly, he crawled up on the bed with her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and letting the other fall across her stomach. "Is this comfortable?"

She nodded her head and then rested it on his chest. "I've missed you so much."

"I know," he pressed his lips to her forehead. "I've missed you too. Are you feeling better?"

"Much."

He wanted to tell her not to worry about his leaving anymore. He simply couldn't do it. He tried to stay away from her for a week and it undid him. Now, holding her in a protective embrace with her half-asleep, he realized he never could be separated from her. They did fit. They were a ying-yang that simply wasn't one without the other. He and Alex were partners and probably would be till they retired, and they fit perfectly together, but that was business.

This, he looked down at the red-headed woman was currently slipping into a sound sleep, this was love.

"I love you, Grace."

She mumbled what he deciphered as a return of affection. Her breathing deepened until it came in an even pace. The rain still pounded off the windows and between that and Grace's relax breathing and warmth next to him, he soon slipped into the first restful sleep he had had in over a week.


	18. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Not making money off this, I do not own Law and Order.

Author's Note: Well folks, it's been a blast! A huge, Goren-sized bear hug out to my reviewers, you guys really do mean a lot to me! Many many thanks. I do have ideas for a sequel so hold onto your hats, I have to get through Christmas first and then I might start another one. So, farewell for now and Merry Christmas!

Sins of the Father

Epilogue

_December 22 _

_Outside FAO Schwarz _

"Now I just have to wrap all this before my nephew finds it," Alex commented, hauling the two FAO Schwarz bags down the snowy New York City sidewalk. Her shopping partner, Grace, gave her a sarcastic laugh.

"You think that's bad, try hiding Christmas gifts from Bobby."

"You're kidding? He's a peeker?"

"You've seen the way he goes over a crime scene and a body. Curiosity overcomes everything else in his mind."

Alex laughed, trying to picture the large frame of her partner half way in a closet rummaging through bags. It was quite a mental sight. "Did you finish your Christmas shopping now?"

Grace nodded. "Just finished in the world largest toy store. Do you have any more left?"

"A couple, but not much." Alex had to bite back a huge grin when she saw Detectives Ed Green and Joe Fontana making their way towards them. "Hey Grace, isn't that your neighbor and his partner?"

The redhead looked through the crowd. "Yeah, that is." She waited till they got closer before calling out to them. Alex stepped back from them as Ed Green nodded in Grace's direction. Looking around, she was able to pick out familiar faces that had hidden themselves well in the crowd. Deakins was leaning on a lamppost, his back semi-turned from them. Alex looked over her shoulder and found Ron Carver behind her, pressed up against a store window with his video camera. She turned back to Grace to see Ed flash his badge to Grace.

"Dr. Grace Harris?"

Alex noted all humor left Grace's face as she said a cautious "Yes."

"Dr. Harris," Ed said with all seriousness, "You have the right to remain single. Anything you say can, and will be used against you in a church of God."

Alex covered her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing at the confused look on Grace's face. She didn't even seem to notice Detective Joe Fontana taking her shopping bags from her. Ed continued his speech without missing a beat or cracking a smile.

"You have the right to a minister. If you can not afford one then your friends and family will provide one for you. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?"

Grace stared dumbly at Ed. Alex could see her mind trying to grasp what was going on. She actually felt a little sorry for Grace and started searching the crowd for Bobby. She found him stepping out of a car that was parked along the curb. She glanced at the driver and found Lewis giving her a little wave. She smiled back and lifted her hand. Bobby gave her a nervous smile before stepping into Grace's line of sight.

Alex had to step closer to the small crowd that had gathered. She could hardly hear her partner's voice over the city noise, which only meant he was terribly nervous. She missed the first couple words he had said to Grace but she was able to catch those famous four words.

"Will you marry me?"

She saw Grace's head bob up and down before Bobby enveloped her. A couple camera flashes went off, Alex's included. Everyone that had been hiding out in the crowd had come forward and Alex was slightly surprised at the number of people who had showed up. Olivia Benson was near the back of the crowd, along with Lennie Briscoe, and Lieutenant Anita Van Buren. Lewis had joined the crowd as well as a couple other people who most likely knew Bobby since they were chatting it up with Lewis. Even Mike Logan and Carolyn Barek had shown up.

"Listen up everyone!" Deakins had shouted above the din. "Larry's Bar over on 75th is expecting all those who want to celebrate with the happy couple."

Alex watched as everyone nodded and made arrangements of who was riding with whom. Grace pushed her way through the crowd back to Alex. She was grinning from ear to ear and threw her arms around the older woman.

"You knew all about this, didn't you?"

Alex laughed. "Sure did. Let me see the ring." Bobby had actually showed it her earlier on that day. He had taken the diamond from his mother's engagement ring and had it reset in a setting of his choosing. It was a narrow white gold band with open scrollwork on either side of the diamond. She had to admit Bobby always did have good taste. "It's beautiful."

"Hey," Bobby appeared behind Grace slipping an arm around her waist, "Lewis said that Grace and I can take his car if he can find someone else to ride with."

Alex's good mood faded somewhat. "What?"

"Can he ride with you?"

"Hey, Detective Alex," Lewis said as he sauntered up.

Alex fixed Bobby with a glare but it did seem to bother him in the slightest as he was still grinning like an idiot. "You so owe me for this."

"I know. Thanks."

Alex watched them get into the car, both still grinning. It wasn't a total surprise when Bobby came up to her and asked for her help a week ago. She was hoping Grace and Bobby's relationship would come to this point but was wondering if he would ever gather up the nerve to enter into a serious relationship. She was glad he found that nerve. And she was glad that it was Grace. They really were a perfect fit.

"So, where are you parked, Detective Alex?"

Alex frowned half heartedly at the mechanic. "You touch me, Lewis, you're dead."


End file.
